Day, something he had dreamed about forever, or so it seemed, time went so slow, it was a stubborn dog really, much like the one he had owned. He would call that dog nonstop, but it never came, he didn't know the day, just like the dog; so he didn't blame it, the dog at least, but this day, this dog, he just couldn't stop screaming for, in his mind and in his voice. He knew it wasn't fair to hope for day though, because he could barely call it in his voice. Such rational thoughts he had but they fled again as he found himself just crying out in his head "fucking day, please" he tried to muster the strength to cry out day, in his own natural, all innocent voice, but the sound... the sound that came out, was the wail of something dead, something exhausted, something thirsty...
He settled in his mind. Stopping whatever motion he had managed in his confined space. He felt something move on his cheek. Was it a lizard, he started to panic, but just then something hit his eye, it was liquid, and then he heard a crack of thunder. It was raining! He cracked his first smile in what had seemed like years. With the waters orientation towards his face he simply opened his mouth and let the water flow. Gulp after gulp, subtle, as subtle as he could, until he swallowed just a bit too hard. His throat pulsed with discomfort and his arm moved, only then, did he realise his arm was completely submerged in water. He instantly realised there was no guarantee of when the rain would stop, or how hard it was actually pouring, it was now a fight not to drown. He contemplated letting himself die. He sat and thought, more and more and after each passing thought he could imagine the water getting closer. He finally decided, he took one big breath, taking in every ounce of stale air he could. He, against all of his own weak bones, twisted as much as he could, yielding no results. He breathed again trying once more, nothing, one more time! He had succeeded, his face was now pressed against the rock. He much like a bottom feeder, began to suck any kind of moisture off the surface of the flat boulder. He could only imagine how he looked, just another paranoid man flipping out. Downing water run off to keep himself alive, when the water had only summed to two cups that had managed to form in the cavity between his right arm and hip. The more he pictured himself, the less he thought it mattered, and eventually he stopped. He tried to relax, catching his breath in the proccess; he could feel his stomach start to ache.
He watched the small puddle ripple under his breath, almost going cross-eyed in the process. It was funny how little his effort mattered, it felt like he had drank so much, but this fucking puddle still formed, right in front of his face, like the gods didn't want him underestimating their anger. He shut his eyes and just breathed, slowly, trying not to snap, mentally. His eyelids quaked open when he felt some water rise to his big toe. He looked down and saw the water rising from inbetween the cracks of his stone coffin. His eyes widened more and more as the water backed up, slowly rising from his left hip, now approaching his navel. He took a deep breath while his slightly raised upper torso still allowed him to do so. Changing his mind, deciding to fight for just a minute more, he wafted the water, now having filled up the area by his ankles, completely submerging the majority of his legs. He wafted more and more water up towards his face, trying to drink it before it accumulated anywhere higher than his chest. He felt his helplessness as the water reached his left nipple and his right hip. He gave up, giving one last wide eyed, spiteful glance, shamefully using his last above water eye for such a shocked, disgusted, gaze into the abyss that was the mangled rock. He flicked his head right just enough to breathe through his nose, its funny, for the first time in his life he could smell dog on himself. He clenched his eyelids and held the pressure in his nostrils. Waiting for his body to draw the last little bit of oxygen out of the air in his lungs.
The day was closing in, finally approaching him, but with it came the white noise, more offputting than he had hoped for his last moments. He listened as it grew closer and more gutteral, much like working the brick for the fireplace he made for his mother, much like when he broke off mislaid bricks, much like it crashing to the ground, much like... rocks shifting. He felt a small rock graze his right cheek and he opened his eyes against the will of the dirty water. Looking right only to see day, no, not a dog, and not the dillusions of a dying man, but the sunlight. Pale hands grabbed him by the collar, pulling him from the water, and even the rocks. His mouth emerged from the ashy murk and he took the largest breath ever known to man. His glazy eyes looked to the sky, but then to the head of his savior, the yellow shining off of her beautiful enblackened hair; then to his pathetic expression in the pupil of her big doe eyes, god he loved his teammate. He leant up and hugged her. Behind her he could now see his other teammate and his own dog, bandaged at the upper front left leg. "Kiba" she muttered into his shoulder. Resting her hand on the back of his shaggy head.
Hello everyone, I know it's been a while, a lot of things have happened, I just want you to know (if you are a long time reader of mine) that the new defining a color chapter is done. If you're new to my stories, check the other ones out. Hope you enjoyed.
Day of the Dog