Yesterday I graded a bunch of WWYP entries (yep, nearly done) and then somehow wrote a story. This is the first complete plot I've finished in a while, so... cool. It needs a lot of work, but I'm hoping to keep it short. And yes, it needs a better title 
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Dog gone
The dog found her on the third day. It towered over Margaret when it found her sitting against a beige alley wall, but once she stood the dog only came to her waist. Margaret had been the tallest girl in her third grade class.
It (he, she discovered) was a mutt, with shaggy brown hair like Mrs. Eliot's golden retriever but the slim proportions of Callie's dalmation. Margaret was delighted to see that the dog was a wigglebutt – he had no tail, but tried to wag it anyways.
The morning rumble of garbage trucks came up the street, just like the first morning Margaret had found herself alone. The dog turned its head when the truck stopped alongside the alley and watched two men get out. Margaret panicked – would the garbage men chase the dog away? This caused her to slump against the wall, for they probably would, and even if they didn't, the dog did her no good. The hardest Margaret cried the past 3 days wasn't when she left her mother's side; it was when she discovered she could no longer play with animals.
This dog, however, looked right at her. She wished for its warm coat in the brisk morning air, which seemed to pass right through her. The dog kept staring at Margeret, and didn't bark or growl. The garbage men – both thin and tall and dark figures, their faces blurry but nametags bright and clear – finally walked up the alley, and when neither they nor the dog reacted to eachother, Margaret realized something was different. The sun was just rising, its gray light rolling through the city like fog. Margaret reached out to pet the dog, and felt her pink and purple gloss fingernails disappear in his warm fur.
The garbage men lifted two plastic trash bins without speaking to her. Thankfully, they had no idea she was there. The scary people were the ones who could talk to her. The garbage men walked away without a word, just like Mrs. Eliot and Callie, and Mom and Dad.
The dog remained. He bent his collared neck around to lick her wrist once. Margaret checked his tags: Perry. He was a long way from home. Margaret wondered how he had died, for by then she had figured out that much.
The dog pulled away from her hand and started walking out of the alley. Margaret no longer felt like her legs could support her weight as she felt like crying again. The city looked so different these past three days. Roads throbbed with cars and wound in on themselves before leading her anywhere. She had tried to follow road signs, but they all read the same unhelpful names: Walnut Hill, Hillcrest, Crestline, Parker, Park, Parkway. Neighborhoods filled with houses became so much darker at night than the urban alleyways.
Perry stopped and turned his head, his floppy ears tightening against his head impatiently, telling her to hurry up. Margaret didn't need to be told twice. She would follow the dog.
She placed her hand on his neck, rubbing him around the collar, and walked. The sidewalks were filling with foot traffic. Dozens of grownups who should have been stopping to help her, to ask her mom's name, to call home for her. She wouldn't get in the car with them, of course. Never, ever get into the car with strangers ever, ever. She had successfully memorized her phone number just the summer before, and was aching to tell it. No one asked.
Those who spoke to her never said anything helpful, and certainly never offered to take Margaret home. She and Perry ran into one around the next corner. Margaret had seen him the previous day – he was a tanned man with a shirt purposefully too small. He walked behind pretty women all day by a half stride, talking to them as though they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The girls never responded.
“Why are you following that dog?” He asked her. “Come with me instead. It'll be fun.”
Margaret had made the mistake of speaking to him the day befor. She had already figured out how to spot people like him. She would just stare at them. Mom had told her it was rude to stare, so for several years Margaret would try to stare as secretly as possible. It didn't work back then, because after staring for long enough, the person always turned and met her eye. She didn't know how, but she enjoyed playing a game with her Dad where they would stare at someone until they made eye contact. Margaret always won once she figured out that people really could feel when they were being watched.
It was still true over the past three days. She stared harder, squinted furiosly at their necks or foreheads, and normal people always, for some reason, would make eye contact with her after enough time.
The adults who could actually speak to her, however, did not. They were too self absorbed with their little obsessions – until they discovered she could see them.
“Come on, come with me. All you have to do is act cute, the women will love it.”
The dog, already tired of the man, resumed walking. His collar pulled Margaret's hand with it.
Once the man disappeared behind then, Margaret asked the dog about his family. Of course he didn't answer, but that never stopped her from asking an animal questions. To Margaret, though, they had clear voices. Cats she imagined as squeeky, fish gargled their responses, and she assigned their class hampster a deep baritone plucked from TV voiceovers.
Perry's chosen voice was not so different from other dogs. He sounded like her Dad.
“Where is your family?” She asked.
At home, she imagined him saying.
“Why aren't you with them anymore?”
Because I'm here with you. She pictured him smiling, but dogs always looked like they smiled when their tongues hung out.
“Where are we going?” She asked after another turn.
Home, he said.
She could see more green than just roadsigns now. A few trees and the grass in between sidewalks popped out at her. Stoplights, too. Even though they didn't have to, Margaret always obeyed the walk/don't-walk signs. Those were the only times her head hurt due to the car accident.
“Why are you following that dog?” Margaret jumped at the sudden voice from behind. A blonde woman, older than Mom, kneeled down to Maraget's level. Margaret wished her hair was as bright and yellow. The blonde woman was so close that Margaret could see individual strokes to her eye shadow.
She held up a glistening diamond ring. "Check this out. Would you like to play dress up?"
Perry woofed to catch Margaret's attention.
The woman kept talking. "You should stay here, sweetie. Look at all these pretty things! Would you like to wear it?"
Perry woofed again, and resumed walking.
"No thanks," Margaret said quickly, before jogging to catch up.
The dog had a different reaction for everyone. Sometimes he would wait for them to finish talking, since they usually ended up giving a ridiculous reason for her to stay behind. "We could drive cars all day," or "think of all the toy stores" or, once, "eat eat eat look at all this food!" For others, when Margaret looked a bit tempted, he would woof or even growl. Once, when a man offered her dozens of cats, Perry licked her hand. That was all she needed.
They headed deeper downtown. The only time Margaret hesitated was when Perry wanted to go through a dark tunnel that ducked under a busy street. She had been avoiding tunnels and downward stairwells for fear of what they implied. This tunnel was short, more bridge than passage, and when she heard Perry bark on the other side, she followed. The busy road made her too nervous to cross, anyways.
The last person to talk to her was a permed, dark-haired woman who's business suit flared at her collar, wrists and chest with color. She looked at her cellphone more than Margaret. In fact, the only time the woman looked up was when she brought the phone to her ear after dialing a number. After a few seconds, she always grunted an "ugh" or a "hmph" before dialing anew.
Perry immediately started growling.
"Shh!" Margaret said, "That's not polite!"
"Oh," the woman said, still dialing, "do you need something?"
"No thanks," Margaret said.
"What's with the dog?"
Perry kept growling.
"I don't think he likes you."
The woman frowned at her phone and dialed another number.
"No, I mean what are you doing with it."
Margaret replied with the only true answer she could think of. "I'm following him."
"Oh. Are you lost?"
The little girl nodded.
"What's your mommy's name?"
She could call. Margaret could go home for the first time since leaving with her mother for the grocery store. She never was able to find her way back, even though she was familiar with the intersection
where their car skidded into an SUV.
Perry began barking. He stood between Margaret and the woman, though she didn't seem to care.
"****it, nobody's picking up." She clapped her phone closed like a castanet. "Here, go ahead and call. What's your mom's number? I'm sure we can find her."
Perry hunched his back and brought his head low, baring his teeth. Margaret didn't know if dogs could pounce, but didn't want to see Perry bite the woman -- though she wondered if biting would even work.
She thought of calling home. She could tell her mom everything was ok, that she was fine, that Mom and Dad didn't need to cry anymore and Margaret would be right home.
The growling stopped, and Perry looked at her with sad eyes. Margaret imagined his voice again, clear and stern and warm. We're almost there, he said.
"No, thank you. I've got to go."
"You don't want to stay?" The woman asked.
"No thanks, Perry says I can't."
No one stopped them for the last two city blocks. Perry turned into an alley off of the intersection of the city's two busiest intersections. The alley was rich with color, with red brick, olive dirt and a blue painted steel fire escape with a blind man sitting at the bottom.
"Here for the boat ride?" he asked. He sounded like her hamster.
"Huh?"
Perry lay down at the base of the blind man's white cane. "Good boy," the blind man said, reaching down and scratching Perry between the ears.
"Is he yours?"
The blind man laughed. "No, no. Perry here's just on the same journey as you. He's sad that he can't see his family again. He was old, and had his last trip to the vet's office yesterday. You should thank him, though."
Margaret didn't need to ask why. She knelt down and ran her hands through Perry's hair.
"You're a lucky girl that he found you. Lots of kids your age are too young to figure out how to find this place."
"There were lots of weird people," she said.
"Not weird," he responded, "just lonely. They didn't have Perry here to show them along."
The blind man cracked his cane against the fire escape. "You'd better get going, kiddo. Time for you to go home, too."
She could still feel the hum of the city streets. It felt like when her dad would hum her to sleep. She considered asking how Perry could climb the ladder with his paws, but decided that wherever she was going probably had a doggy door.
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Dog gone
The dog found her on the third day. It towered over Margaret when it found her sitting against a beige alley wall, but once she stood the dog only came to her waist. Margaret had been the tallest girl in her third grade class.
It (he, she discovered) was a mutt, with shaggy brown hair like Mrs. Eliot's golden retriever but the slim proportions of Callie's dalmation. Margaret was delighted to see that the dog was a wigglebutt – he had no tail, but tried to wag it anyways.
The morning rumble of garbage trucks came up the street, just like the first morning Margaret had found herself alone. The dog turned its head when the truck stopped alongside the alley and watched two men get out. Margaret panicked – would the garbage men chase the dog away? This caused her to slump against the wall, for they probably would, and even if they didn't, the dog did her no good. The hardest Margaret cried the past 3 days wasn't when she left her mother's side; it was when she discovered she could no longer play with animals.
This dog, however, looked right at her. She wished for its warm coat in the brisk morning air, which seemed to pass right through her. The dog kept staring at Margeret, and didn't bark or growl. The garbage men – both thin and tall and dark figures, their faces blurry but nametags bright and clear – finally walked up the alley, and when neither they nor the dog reacted to eachother, Margaret realized something was different. The sun was just rising, its gray light rolling through the city like fog. Margaret reached out to pet the dog, and felt her pink and purple gloss fingernails disappear in his warm fur.
The garbage men lifted two plastic trash bins without speaking to her. Thankfully, they had no idea she was there. The scary people were the ones who could talk to her. The garbage men walked away without a word, just like Mrs. Eliot and Callie, and Mom and Dad.
The dog remained. He bent his collared neck around to lick her wrist once. Margaret checked his tags: Perry. He was a long way from home. Margaret wondered how he had died, for by then she had figured out that much.
The dog pulled away from her hand and started walking out of the alley. Margaret no longer felt like her legs could support her weight as she felt like crying again. The city looked so different these past three days. Roads throbbed with cars and wound in on themselves before leading her anywhere. She had tried to follow road signs, but they all read the same unhelpful names: Walnut Hill, Hillcrest, Crestline, Parker, Park, Parkway. Neighborhoods filled with houses became so much darker at night than the urban alleyways.
Perry stopped and turned his head, his floppy ears tightening against his head impatiently, telling her to hurry up. Margaret didn't need to be told twice. She would follow the dog.
She placed her hand on his neck, rubbing him around the collar, and walked. The sidewalks were filling with foot traffic. Dozens of grownups who should have been stopping to help her, to ask her mom's name, to call home for her. She wouldn't get in the car with them, of course. Never, ever get into the car with strangers ever, ever. She had successfully memorized her phone number just the summer before, and was aching to tell it. No one asked.
Those who spoke to her never said anything helpful, and certainly never offered to take Margaret home. She and Perry ran into one around the next corner. Margaret had seen him the previous day – he was a tanned man with a shirt purposefully too small. He walked behind pretty women all day by a half stride, talking to them as though they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The girls never responded.
“Why are you following that dog?” He asked her. “Come with me instead. It'll be fun.”
Margaret had made the mistake of speaking to him the day befor. She had already figured out how to spot people like him. She would just stare at them. Mom had told her it was rude to stare, so for several years Margaret would try to stare as secretly as possible. It didn't work back then, because after staring for long enough, the person always turned and met her eye. She didn't know how, but she enjoyed playing a game with her Dad where they would stare at someone until they made eye contact. Margaret always won once she figured out that people really could feel when they were being watched.
It was still true over the past three days. She stared harder, squinted furiosly at their necks or foreheads, and normal people always, for some reason, would make eye contact with her after enough time.
The adults who could actually speak to her, however, did not. They were too self absorbed with their little obsessions – until they discovered she could see them.
“Come on, come with me. All you have to do is act cute, the women will love it.”
The dog, already tired of the man, resumed walking. His collar pulled Margaret's hand with it.
Once the man disappeared behind then, Margaret asked the dog about his family. Of course he didn't answer, but that never stopped her from asking an animal questions. To Margaret, though, they had clear voices. Cats she imagined as squeeky, fish gargled their responses, and she assigned their class hampster a deep baritone plucked from TV voiceovers.
Perry's chosen voice was not so different from other dogs. He sounded like her Dad.
“Where is your family?” She asked.
At home, she imagined him saying.
“Why aren't you with them anymore?”
Because I'm here with you. She pictured him smiling, but dogs always looked like they smiled when their tongues hung out.
“Where are we going?” She asked after another turn.
Home, he said.
She could see more green than just roadsigns now. A few trees and the grass in between sidewalks popped out at her. Stoplights, too. Even though they didn't have to, Margaret always obeyed the walk/don't-walk signs. Those were the only times her head hurt due to the car accident.
“Why are you following that dog?” Margaret jumped at the sudden voice from behind. A blonde woman, older than Mom, kneeled down to Maraget's level. Margaret wished her hair was as bright and yellow. The blonde woman was so close that Margaret could see individual strokes to her eye shadow.
She held up a glistening diamond ring. "Check this out. Would you like to play dress up?"
Perry woofed to catch Margaret's attention.
The woman kept talking. "You should stay here, sweetie. Look at all these pretty things! Would you like to wear it?"
Perry woofed again, and resumed walking.
"No thanks," Margaret said quickly, before jogging to catch up.
The dog had a different reaction for everyone. Sometimes he would wait for them to finish talking, since they usually ended up giving a ridiculous reason for her to stay behind. "We could drive cars all day," or "think of all the toy stores" or, once, "eat eat eat look at all this food!" For others, when Margaret looked a bit tempted, he would woof or even growl. Once, when a man offered her dozens of cats, Perry licked her hand. That was all she needed.
They headed deeper downtown. The only time Margaret hesitated was when Perry wanted to go through a dark tunnel that ducked under a busy street. She had been avoiding tunnels and downward stairwells for fear of what they implied. This tunnel was short, more bridge than passage, and when she heard Perry bark on the other side, she followed. The busy road made her too nervous to cross, anyways.
The last person to talk to her was a permed, dark-haired woman who's business suit flared at her collar, wrists and chest with color. She looked at her cellphone more than Margaret. In fact, the only time the woman looked up was when she brought the phone to her ear after dialing a number. After a few seconds, she always grunted an "ugh" or a "hmph" before dialing anew.
Perry immediately started growling.
"Shh!" Margaret said, "That's not polite!"
"Oh," the woman said, still dialing, "do you need something?"
"No thanks," Margaret said.
"What's with the dog?"
Perry kept growling.
"I don't think he likes you."
The woman frowned at her phone and dialed another number.
"No, I mean what are you doing with it."
Margaret replied with the only true answer she could think of. "I'm following him."
"Oh. Are you lost?"
The little girl nodded.
"What's your mommy's name?"
She could call. Margaret could go home for the first time since leaving with her mother for the grocery store. She never was able to find her way back, even though she was familiar with the intersection
where their car skidded into an SUV.
Perry began barking. He stood between Margaret and the woman, though she didn't seem to care.
"****it, nobody's picking up." She clapped her phone closed like a castanet. "Here, go ahead and call. What's your mom's number? I'm sure we can find her."
Perry hunched his back and brought his head low, baring his teeth. Margaret didn't know if dogs could pounce, but didn't want to see Perry bite the woman -- though she wondered if biting would even work.
She thought of calling home. She could tell her mom everything was ok, that she was fine, that Mom and Dad didn't need to cry anymore and Margaret would be right home.
The growling stopped, and Perry looked at her with sad eyes. Margaret imagined his voice again, clear and stern and warm. We're almost there, he said.
"No, thank you. I've got to go."
"You don't want to stay?" The woman asked.
"No thanks, Perry says I can't."
No one stopped them for the last two city blocks. Perry turned into an alley off of the intersection of the city's two busiest intersections. The alley was rich with color, with red brick, olive dirt and a blue painted steel fire escape with a blind man sitting at the bottom.
"Here for the boat ride?" he asked. He sounded like her hamster.
"Huh?"
Perry lay down at the base of the blind man's white cane. "Good boy," the blind man said, reaching down and scratching Perry between the ears.
"Is he yours?"
The blind man laughed. "No, no. Perry here's just on the same journey as you. He's sad that he can't see his family again. He was old, and had his last trip to the vet's office yesterday. You should thank him, though."
Margaret didn't need to ask why. She knelt down and ran her hands through Perry's hair.
"You're a lucky girl that he found you. Lots of kids your age are too young to figure out how to find this place."
"There were lots of weird people," she said.
"Not weird," he responded, "just lonely. They didn't have Perry here to show them along."
The blind man cracked his cane against the fire escape. "You'd better get going, kiddo. Time for you to go home, too."
She could still feel the hum of the city streets. It felt like when her dad would hum her to sleep. She considered asking how Perry could climb the ladder with his paws, but decided that wherever she was going probably had a doggy door.
Keep it up...AFTER YOU FINISH JUDGING!!!!!
