Disclaimer: I do not own it.
Fiction Rating: T (T for teen . . . heh. I just turned 13. XD)
Author Notes: Gr. I don't really know where to go with this story, because lately, I've been focusing on my deviantART stuff. Gomen nasai! I just don't know . . . even though I think I'm better at writing than drawing, yeah . . .
:cough: Anyway, here's the story.
Runaway
Dally blinked; he knew there was something there in the darkness of the car. Light yellow eyes . . .
"Uff!"
"The fuck?" he asked himself, squinting into the darkness. "Who's there?" No reply. "Fucking show yourself." Something there shifted and moved around, he could tell, but it didn't reveal itself. "COME OUT!" he roared, hearing a small whimper.
Cocking a brow, the greaser tried to get up, only to fall back onto the ground. He didn't dare fall asleep, because whatever the hell that thing was, he didn't want it to do anything to him. He had to be on his guard at all times.
After a while, there was a scratching noise in the darkness. The whole car had become dark, because night grew older—so did Dally's patience. 'When is this fucking train gonna come to a goddamn stop?' he thought, warily running a hand through his hair.
Once again, he heard whatever it was shift somewhere in the darkness. He narrowed his eyes. "Goddamn it, come out already!" he jumped to his feet, but felt an extremely sharp pain in his leg. "SHIT!" he gasped, plopping onto the cold, hard ground. "S-shit . . ." Dally checked to see if something had opened up again.
But suddenly, something tackled him and threw him onto the ground! "G-gaaah!" Dally growled, trying throw whatever it was off of him, but nothing worked. It held firm, until finally, the greaser stopped, pretending to be dead on his back.
There was a warm, smelly gust of wind in his face . . . and then something wet ran against his cheek. Dally gritted his teeth. 'Stay . . . calm,' he told himself, but he couldn't. He grabbed the thing by the neck, and threw it onto the ground. "Who's the loser now?" he asked, grinning. Whatever it was, it whimpered, and jabbed its leg into Dally's stomach.
"Mother fu—" Dally gasped, clutching his stomach. He panted, desperately trying to breathe. "What the fuck are you?" he asked, putting his back against the side of the truck to face it. Instead of a reply, it said something like, "Uff!" The greaser cocked a brow. His vision was blurry, and it was too dark to see, anyway.
"Well, whatever," he decided, trying to figure out what it was. He knew what it was . . . but couldn't name it. His head was pounding and it was getting harder to breathe. It was a huge effort to even keep his eyes open. Eventually, he drifted into sleep . . .
Thud.There was a screeching noise, and Dally felt himself slide along the floor and ram his head into a side of the car. They were there . . . where ever 'there' was. He opened one eye lazily, to see piercing yellow eyes look right back at him. "Whoa!" he jerked back, slamming the back of his head against the car. The creature backed away slowly into the door, but stayed there.
The 17 year old knew that they would start checking the cars soon, so he got up, even though every muscle in his body was yelling at him to get some more sleep. As he got up, it was like every limb in him cracked. Also, the place where he got shot was burning like hell. "What the fuck am I gonna do?" he asked himself, heading towards the door.
He felt like he had no control over himself. As he walked to open the door, he couldn't even feel himself stepping on the floor. Then, this black thing darted in front of him . . . and tugged on his leg. But why the hell was it all the way down there? Dally shook his head. 'Focus, Dallas,' he told himself, opening the door.
Light burst through the opening, which hurt Dally's eyes. "Now . . ." he said, ". . . . to find out what you are . . ." he glanced down at the thing, which was a little black furry thing tugging at his pants. "What the hell?" he picked it up by the neck, and it licked his face.
"A dog?" he asked, putting it back on the ground. "A dog . . . great. Thanks. I'm innocent this time, and all you send me is a mother fucking dog?"
But it would be more than just a dog—way more.
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Author Notes: Gah. I had no ideas whatsoever. So, I used this. O o; The only thing I could think of was this. ; I know. It's stupid. But, yeah . . . So, please review!
