In Pursuit of Metamorphosis

~ Wednesday, December 7 ~

Ripping at the Seams

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

There was a flaw in their design. Don’t ask me how. Hell, don’t even ask me who They are. If I knew- things might be different.

Or they might be just as they were now.

The last I remembered of life was the screech of metal tearing apart. Twisting and scraping in a horrendous mess. Most of all I remember the burning flesh. The smell would forever mar my senses. Even now I could sense it was still there, in the back of my mind. I could see the skin burning, layers flaying away in molten masses to show the glean of impossible white. Bone.

Who knew it could be so white?

At the most, it was unfair. Cruel even, that my last (and only for that matter) memory of real life was so horrendous that I pretended It wasn’t mine to begin with. In reality however, I knew that it had been my flesh melting away. My bone. The metal around me had trapped me inside, burned me alive. Even now I couldn’t tell you what the metal was.

It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything.

I awoke to a room far to child like for my own comfort. Pastel yellows and pinks blended around me. There was no furniture however, no fluffy bunnies or happy ponies. Only pastel yellow walls, trimmed with pink lining. No bed. No door. No window.

Only walls surrounded me. Had I been claustrophobic I may have died. It’s only now that I can laugh at that expression. The moment I woke up, my mind hadn’t exactly wrapped around the fact that I wasn’t breathing. If I had put my hand to my chest, there would have been no hammering where my heart should be.

It wasn’t until the robed figure marched through the wall that I began to panic. Upon entering my room, the figure stood in front of me even as the walls began to evaporate. Around me now, was nothingness.

I screamed.

To my credit, most people would have done more. Most people wouldn’t stand and listen as a faceless robe explained to them that they were dead, and that now they had a job to do. I did, however. Once the warm greetings were out of the way (Not that there were any), I was sent back to Earth. Not to live, but to start my duty. Before me was a list of names, people that had to be taken care of.

I was given only this list, a spotted feline like creature, and the task of collecting these 99 souls. I would take them to where I had awoken. I would not harm them, not spiritually at least. It took me years, yet I found them all.

To my credit, the 99 souls were collected far faster than the robes expected. One by one they were captured in my private hell of nothing, and even though not one of them looked familiar to me, I knew that they had played some part in what had happened. I believed that.

It was the feline that brought in number 99. He was the evasive one. He seemed to always know when we were upon him, and when we would strike. Earth children called him magical, their adults called him crazy. I didn’t care much for calling him anything.

I only wanted him.

Once inside the vast nothing I had been ‘born’ into, he stumbled. Clearly shaking, and understanding well of what was to become of him, he demanded I let him go. He threatened he would harm me.

Then he fell to his knees and begged me not to harm him.

“Where am I?” he stammered. It was a question I had never allowed the others an answer to. Now, with them all here however, I granted him the pleasure of knowledge. If only this once.

“Your in the in between” I announced, my voice cold and raspy from years of non use. I had already forgotten what I had sounded like in life. “Now it’s time you moved forward”

They all became alert. As they should have. Yet nothing they did could have deemed any difference to the robes. The appeared from nowhere, encompassing the room within seconds. Once they were gone, so were my souls.

All 99 of them.

In there place now where lanterns. They floated in exact locations where there had once been a person. Or at least the remembrance of a person. I stared on at this site, suddenly feeling robbed. It was only then, that the feline who had accompanied me in my many conquest, finally spoke:

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. You dying. There was a flaw in there design. In ancient China, the symbol of a lantern burning bright through the darkness was meant to welcome lost souls. You’ve captured all ninety nine.

All those that participated in breaking the original plan of life, thus causing your death.”

I smiled. Yes. This was what I had wanted. Revenge.

The triumph however, was short lived. Pain shot through me, causing me to double over in an effort to stay on my feet. Falling in the in between- was much different than standing after all. Acid burned through my veins, causing me to dig my nails into flesh. I shouldn’t have felt pain. Pain meant I was alive.

Was I?

It didn’t matter. The pain continued, getting worse. The tearing of flesh filled the air. It was then I decided that burning wasn’t the worst memory I had.

Once it all subsided, and I stood- I knew all to well what had happened. Without a mirror, I knew without a doubt about the wings that had grown outwards. The feathers were still bloody, streaking down my back and onto the floor.

"We aren’t offering you a new life. We’re simply giving you the right to consume it”

- To be continued??? -

Tags: Horror creative writing life death mistakes reaper souls supernatural sifi novel short story siren subeta
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~ Tuesday, December 6 ~

Forever and Ever

Humans rarely see what is really there.

Looking at my girl, all they could possibly see is the beauty, and the cold exterior. No one saw the warm heart inside her, or the unconditional kindness she’d willing dole out to a stranger - if only the asked. In that aspect, that is truly why humans will never be as smart as dogs.

With a simple downward twist of her lips, a cocky stride, and a snide remark - any given two legger would dismiss this girl for cold and wounded. Any dog, however, would see the reflecting look in her eyes, we would smell the falter of her step and the hesitance in her frown. Most of all, I could sense the agony and defeat in her even when her friends thought her to be at her strongest.

So I was there when she needed me, and ever present when she thought she didn’t. In the back of her mind, I like to think that she knew I was protecting her in all the ways friends and family could not.

To be fair, I was the only one present when my girl turned from innocent child to woman. I laid curled at her side in the most painful time of her life, and watched the fire of passion flicker and dim in her eyes. I got to see her new perspective and intelligence be born.

On the day her human family says she turned to stone, I saw her collapse inwards yet grow stronger and wiser.

If only for a day humans could see others in the fashion that dogs do, hate and misunderstanding might diminish from the world.

Then again, a landslide of unknown emotion might unfurl.

The story I plan on telling you is, to my best knowledge, as accurate as possible for me. My girl willing told me the recounting of her life when I could not be around, but theres still only so much truth a dog can weddle from it’s humans entire life.


I still remember the day she came into my life with perfect clarity. Still a puppy, I remained in a small cage among rows and rows of others. Stacked atop one another, lining walls, and forming walkways most of the cages around me contained dogs just like me. Some would bark as humans approached them, others would remained pressed against the steel floors.

I had been in this room for an indeterminable amount of time. Hundreds of people came in and out, I began counting but stopped as days rolled into weeks (or so it felt. I still have no clear understanding of how long I was there), yet my cage door was never opened except on the occasions I was allowed outside to urinate. I had entered this room with other puppies, none of them relation to me, but all of them the same breed. We had all come from the same owner - who was refereed to by the regulars here as a backyard breeder. As time went on, we were all given separate cages as we grew too big to share one. Soon after the separation, many of them began to disappear. Totally isolated, I waited in my cage making no sound. A young couple began down the aisle. The male stopped to push his fingers through my cage and brush against my fur. I obliged, leaning against the bars with my tail wagging.

“He’s cute”

His female, which had been playing with the puppy across from me turned now to inspect me. Her fingers brushed against the cage and I licked at them. She drew away, still smiling.

“His ear is really droopy”

“He’s just a puppy. It’ll stand up as he gets older”

“Maybe” she agreed, still inspecting me “Don’t German Shepherds get too big though”

“Maybe” he sighed, resigned to agree with her and she turned across the aisle to pet a maltese puppy. He did the same. After a few moments, the couple left to exit down the aisle holding hands. In his free hand, attached to a leash was the puppy. Later that day, it’s cage was cleaned, sprayed down and a new older dog was placed inside. He stared back at me through haunted, empty eyes but said nothing.

When someone began down our aisle, he turned his back to the door and laid his head in his paws. I watched him for a moment in interest. Once I looked away, I began to watch as a lone girl began slowly down the aisle, her eyes tracing over every cage. Long dark hair cascaded freely down her thin shoulders. She was dressed better than most I had seen walk this aisle. Her dark eyes, hidden behind heavy lashes, never rested on a single object for to long. She walked with her head held a centimeter higher than most, her stride measured and poised. She reached out her fingertips as if to brush against the cages, yet never truly touched a thing. She ebbed dominance.

As she reached the near center, still so far from my cage, another figure rounded the corner. He was tall, with tanned skin, broad shoulders and sandy hair. His face contorted in a permanent scowl, his eyes only remained on her. He never strayed to look at the cages around him. His love for her, his sheer admiration was undeniable, so much so that even two-leggers noticed. His hatred for her, only a dog could sense.

I can’t even begin to explain to you how one can both love and hate the same person. This emotion, I assure you, is exclusive to humans. 

“They said it’s in cage number 59”, He told her, his voice a straight edge across a frozen surface.

“He” She corrected, unfazed. It was the moment she spoke I became aware that she was uncontrollably in love with him as well. Seeing the cage numbers around her, she never quickened her pace. Slowly she made it to the back cages. Examining the  dogs on the opposite side of me she turned slowly on her heel before coming at rest in front of mine. She stopped suddenly, her eyes finally focusing on a target.


“He’s beautiful” she breathed, her utter awe unconfined.

His hand reached for the paper attached to my cage. “They told you he was mixed”

“Yeah” she smiled, already reaching to unlatch the cage and pull the door open. She crouched down, blocking my exit yet keeping the door open enough to run her hands through my fur. My tail wagged and unable to restrain myself I licked at her face.

“Easy Vicktor”she laughed, speaking my name for the first time. It was the first name I could ever remember ever having. Before that moment, before her I could only remember being called puppy or (my least favorite) Nikki.

“He looks purebreed”

“I don’t care” she told him, her eyes still never leaving me. “Can you bring me the leash?”

Producing one from his back pocket, he reached down to her. His fingers ran through her hair as she attached a purple collar and leash to my neck. She easily unfastened my old collar, which was dirty and worn so the original color was no longer clear. Dropping it in my cage she stepped aside and I began my last walk down the aisle. The other dogs barked. I tugged against my lead in excitement. She only gently pulled me to a stop each time, calling my name and keeping the lead as loose as she could.

I imagine I can still hear the barking of all the other dogs left behind to an unknown fate. Theres always a wake up call from such nightmares.



“Aria” He called, trailing at our heels in disinterest. I lead the way of course, navigating through the aisles of the pet store in awe. We were surrounded by other people, and had even run across a few other dogs on our shopping escapade. “The dogs a boy, he’s gonna look gay in all purple”

“Don’t be a homophobe Dean” she laughed half-heartedly, though her grip on my leash remained dominant. “Vicktor’s going to look so cute”

“If you say so” he muttered, returning to her side to grab her hand. I looked back in interest. Even though we had been together less than a day, I had already decided that my true loyalties went to Aria, not Dean. It was her alone that would support and care for me, and if the time ever came I would happily see Dean to the door.

She twined her fingers in his, squeezing his hand and looking up  with a smile. The entire scene ebbed with affection, yet underneath was the fight for dominance. She diminished the tension easily by turning back to the counter and picking up a large blue bone encrusted with little jewels on the side. Dropping everything on the counter before her, there was a clicking noise. she turned to me.

“Sit boy”

Dean watched in amusement for a moment.


“I don’t think he knows what to do” he teased, looking down to me with teasing eyes. My tail wagged and I kept my eyes focused on her, willing her to tell me what to do. Her hand remained positioned just in front of my nose and she repeated the words slowly while moving her hand backwards. Watching her intently, my hindquarters hit the ground in an effort to keep track of her hand. The moment I was fully on the ground she smiled, producing a treat from her pocket.

“Good sit” she smiled, kneeling to give me the treat while ruffling my fur “Good sit Vicktor”

Standing back up, she smiled challengingly to Dean “He’s already smarter than you”

Tags: novel creative writing dogs german shepherd love lust life memoir story draft
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