Where Were They?

Posted: July 31, 2013 by writingsprint in Drama
Tags: , , , , , ,

'Stare' by Mikko LagerstedtWhere were they?

Jack lay on the floor of the rug by the door. They’d been gone for hours. Why did they have to go without him? He wasn’t worried that they wouldn’t come back. Not really. So far, they always had. When he was little he’d been afraid they would never come back again, not ever. That had been more than he could bear.

He’d lain there while they got ready to go. They had it down to a system. Whenever they went out at night, they started talking in more urgent voices around 3:00. The kids had to get home or they had to finish what they were doing. Some of them took showers or baths. Sometimes Jack got lucky and it meant they were going over to the grandparents’ house, with their old, creaky house and the different smells and corners to check out. When they started putting on different clothes or makeup, that was the giveaway. That meant they were going out to dinner, the movies, or something else fancy. No dogs allowed.

Jack had a system, too. As soon as they started showering or changing clothes, he lay in the middle of the first floor where they could see him. Usually someone would walk by and give him a scratch on the back. They told him what a good dog he was. He always liked that. He wanted to make sure they knew that he knew that something was up. He would watch they go back and forth. He would get ready to watch them go, take a quick nap, then guard the house for the rest of the night. If they took him along, it was best thing ever!

They usually came back smelling like someplace with fancy food. Other times they smelled like popcorn and sugary drinks. Other times their shoes smelled like stale beer or cigarettes. Ugh.

Maybe they would come back with leftovers. Once they came back with doggie ice cream and biscuits like he’d never tasted before. He still remembered it: buffalo wing flavor for dogs. Jack licked his chops thinking about it.

But there were no leftovers, yet. Jack sighed. First they had to come back.

They sure had been gone a long time. He’d waited long enough that he started to feel that old fear that they wouldn’t come home. It scratched at the edge of his ear, a fly that he tried to shake away.

Jack’s ears lifted up. He thought he heard the car.

I once knew someone who had a gift with photography. She would take a friend’s picture, usually when they weren’t expecting it, and the picture was always the essence of who they were.

What is it about black and white photography that turns any moment into passionate art? Even a picture of a dog!

Tonight’s picture is called “Stare” by Mikko Lagerstedt.

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