Monday, January 11th, 2010
I stare. I can see the bowls. The man in white dumps out yesterday’s water. I am disappointed. A fly drowned in the bowl yesterday. The fly promised that if I could get there, I would get a drink and a tasty morsel. He pours in fresh water. I watch to see if anything spills. My tongue is so dry. He puts fresh chunks of meat into the other bowl. I can smell it. Blood, life, fresh flesh. Need. My jaws need to snap the meat in pieces. My tongue needs to slide the meat into my mouth down my throat into my belly.
My nails dig into the hardwood floor. My feet slip, but I keep scrambling. Splinters in my paws. A nose, a nose! If I could get a nose closer, I could taste the moist chunks of meat. I can taste it, juicy salty filling the gnawing hurt. I can taste it in my mind, and I snap, I snap at the meat.
But my neck hurts. If I pull too hard against the chain it hurts more. I stretch, I stretch. I know I can get my neck closer by a nose. I stretch, my neck is choking and pain. And then my nose hits a smooth cold barrier. My breath whuffs out, and frosty fog blocks out the meat.
Tags: Fiction, short short story
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