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tamingthemuseTitle: Taking the Time
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Feral
Warnings: none
Rating: PG 13
Summary: In a world without people, dogs take over the city.
I forgot to record time.
It hadn’t seemed important, but now, as I sat on the dock floating several feet over the flooded parking lot, I wondered what day it was.
Summer still, obviously. I laid back and stared up, unblinkingly at the blue, blue sky and tried to count the days. It would become important, later, as I ran out of canned food and had to learn to grow my own. If that day ever came.
I silently cursed my stupidity and then tossed the thought out of my head. What was I going to grow? Corn? There was food enough in cans in this city to feed me for a lifetime, if I ignored the expiration dates. Never bothered me before, why start now?
I touched the muddy river water with my toes, too afraid of childhood fears to submerge my feet, but enjoying the cooling sensation nonetheless.
Fall would come, and I would stock pile blankets and wood and food and water. I hadn’t been able to afford heating before, and so I didn’t fear the winter as much as maybe I should.
Snow would cover the ground, making it impossible for me to travel any sort of distance, so I was going to have to begin gathering such things before first snow fall. If I didn’t know the date, then how was I supposed to know when to start? I called myself ten kinds of fools and rolled over onto my stomach on the aluminum dock. It was hot against my skin where the sun had taken it’s time heating it. I hissed, but didn’t move, enjoying the pain. I was still alive.
I folded my arms under my head and watched the choppy waves of the flooded river and I wondered how much more it was going to flood this year. Nearly seventeen years ago, when the river first flooded in ‘93, it was said that the river wouldn’t flood again for fifteen years, but it had flooded every year since. It’s been seventeen years, and I wondered, without people, will it be better? Or worse?
I remembered the show about life after people and I wondered, what things the absence of humans has set in motion.
I had no notion if any levees have broken under the deluge of rain, nor if any fires had started up river.
The day was quite, like all my days now, and calm. I sat on a dock on the dangerous river and lazily trailed my hand through the filthy water, at peace.
A low growl from behind me made my hair stand up on end, and I carefully turned my head to look toward the city. About twenty feet away, a mongrel stood, hackles raised and teeth bared as it paced the inches of water submerging the parking lot.
I felt fear course through me like a bucket of cold water, dripping down my scalp, to my chest, hips and finally toes. I pushed myself upright and gathered my feet under me, but I knew I was trapped as soon as that dog decided the water wasn’t that much of a barrier.
I licked my lips and hoped the dog wasn’t feral as I tried to remember if anything I learned off the Dog Whisperer would help me.
Stay calm, was my first thought, as always, when dealing with dogs. I didn’t like the creatures, never had, save a select few. They scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of them. I was afraid of the pain they could inflict on me.
This one was half starved. I could see its ribs from here, and I wondered if anything I did would stop it from seeing me as a tasty meal.
The dog stepped in deeper, then back peddled as it felt the heavy current of the river. I had to hold onto the steel cable of the dock just to reach this far, so I held hope that the dog didn’t brave the water. It would never make it to the dock, I kept repeating to myself.
Suddenly, the dog lunged, splashing up a wave, and I jumped to my feet, retreating down the dock. My legs were shaky and didn’t want to move with the dock and I felt like I could fall over at any time.
The dog wasn’t looking at me anymore, but pouncing on a fish that had swam too close to shore. I sighed and hoped the dog would catch it, be satisfied with that, and leave me be.
Heart pounding, I crept toward the edge of the dock, further away from the hunting dog and slipped into the water, one hand clutching the cable holding the dock to the parking lot.
The cable actually went deeper into the water, but lead to a rail that was still visible just under the surface. I hoped I was strong enough to hold onto that and make my way past the current to where the water thinned and I could make my escape.
Coughing and fighting the pull of the water, I slowly blocked out thoughts of the dog and focused on returning to a depth where I could touch and not fear the inky darkness of this great muddy river.
First, the rail slowly emerged from the water, then my feet touched bottom. I laughed softly and finally turned to check on the dog, but it was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly made my way to the bike perched against the not-submerged rail.
I needed to head home and start preparing for the winter ahead.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Feral
Warnings: none
Rating: PG 13
Summary: In a world without people, dogs take over the city.
I forgot to record time.
It hadn’t seemed important, but now, as I sat on the dock floating several feet over the flooded parking lot, I wondered what day it was.
Summer still, obviously. I laid back and stared up, unblinkingly at the blue, blue sky and tried to count the days. It would become important, later, as I ran out of canned food and had to learn to grow my own. If that day ever came.
I silently cursed my stupidity and then tossed the thought out of my head. What was I going to grow? Corn? There was food enough in cans in this city to feed me for a lifetime, if I ignored the expiration dates. Never bothered me before, why start now?
I touched the muddy river water with my toes, too afraid of childhood fears to submerge my feet, but enjoying the cooling sensation nonetheless.
Fall would come, and I would stock pile blankets and wood and food and water. I hadn’t been able to afford heating before, and so I didn’t fear the winter as much as maybe I should.
Snow would cover the ground, making it impossible for me to travel any sort of distance, so I was going to have to begin gathering such things before first snow fall. If I didn’t know the date, then how was I supposed to know when to start? I called myself ten kinds of fools and rolled over onto my stomach on the aluminum dock. It was hot against my skin where the sun had taken it’s time heating it. I hissed, but didn’t move, enjoying the pain. I was still alive.
I folded my arms under my head and watched the choppy waves of the flooded river and I wondered how much more it was going to flood this year. Nearly seventeen years ago, when the river first flooded in ‘93, it was said that the river wouldn’t flood again for fifteen years, but it had flooded every year since. It’s been seventeen years, and I wondered, without people, will it be better? Or worse?
I remembered the show about life after people and I wondered, what things the absence of humans has set in motion.
I had no notion if any levees have broken under the deluge of rain, nor if any fires had started up river.
The day was quite, like all my days now, and calm. I sat on a dock on the dangerous river and lazily trailed my hand through the filthy water, at peace.
A low growl from behind me made my hair stand up on end, and I carefully turned my head to look toward the city. About twenty feet away, a mongrel stood, hackles raised and teeth bared as it paced the inches of water submerging the parking lot.
I felt fear course through me like a bucket of cold water, dripping down my scalp, to my chest, hips and finally toes. I pushed myself upright and gathered my feet under me, but I knew I was trapped as soon as that dog decided the water wasn’t that much of a barrier.
I licked my lips and hoped the dog wasn’t feral as I tried to remember if anything I learned off the Dog Whisperer would help me.
Stay calm, was my first thought, as always, when dealing with dogs. I didn’t like the creatures, never had, save a select few. They scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of them. I was afraid of the pain they could inflict on me.
This one was half starved. I could see its ribs from here, and I wondered if anything I did would stop it from seeing me as a tasty meal.
The dog stepped in deeper, then back peddled as it felt the heavy current of the river. I had to hold onto the steel cable of the dock just to reach this far, so I held hope that the dog didn’t brave the water. It would never make it to the dock, I kept repeating to myself.
Suddenly, the dog lunged, splashing up a wave, and I jumped to my feet, retreating down the dock. My legs were shaky and didn’t want to move with the dock and I felt like I could fall over at any time.
The dog wasn’t looking at me anymore, but pouncing on a fish that had swam too close to shore. I sighed and hoped the dog would catch it, be satisfied with that, and leave me be.
Heart pounding, I crept toward the edge of the dock, further away from the hunting dog and slipped into the water, one hand clutching the cable holding the dock to the parking lot.
The cable actually went deeper into the water, but lead to a rail that was still visible just under the surface. I hoped I was strong enough to hold onto that and make my way past the current to where the water thinned and I could make my escape.
Coughing and fighting the pull of the water, I slowly blocked out thoughts of the dog and focused on returning to a depth where I could touch and not fear the inky darkness of this great muddy river.
First, the rail slowly emerged from the water, then my feet touched bottom. I laughed softly and finally turned to check on the dog, but it was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly made my way to the bike perched against the not-submerged rail.
I needed to head home and start preparing for the winter ahead.
