Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Here's something I wrote.
Death is like a Boomerang
© 2009 Emily Horn
Some things are like boomerangs, they always come back to haunt you. Suddenly it feels like the world is turned upside down. Sometimes, it feels like the only way you can fix the problems in life is to ignore them, but they never really go away. Death is one of those things, you can ignore it for however long you want, but someday, it just has to be put to rest, and if it isn't, sometimes it comes back to bite you in the butt. Death, is like a boomerang.
Early morning light was seeping through the vinyl tent fabric. A film of dew coated the zippered door. One set of eyes popped open, then another, both breathing steadily. Elissa rose from inside her sleeping bag, yawned. Then stiffened.
Do you hear that? She asked, suddenly quiet.
What? Then I heard it. A growling, chewing sound. An animal grumbling. Maggie had found something to eat.
That. She said, still quiet. She threw her covers off a marched out of the tent. I decided I should probably go too. Even though sleeping is my favorite past time. Oh, No! She yelped when she cleared the vinyl screen. I pushed past her.
Oh. Was all I said.
I can't really describe to you what it was like. It wasn't gruesome, or gory, or even carnage. It was just horrible. Trust me, waking up to see dead babies, is nothing you ever want to do.
Our house had many bird nests. Robins, Sparrows, Finches, even a Wood duck. Somehow our dog managed to kill every baby bird, just as it jumped out of it's nest.
Our back lawn was scattered with three dead bodies now. All twisted out of shape, wings broken, feathers bloody, lying in positions you wouldn't think even existed. She was chewing on something now. I ran over to her, and kicked her hard in the side.
Let go! I yelled, Let go! She whimpered and dropped the baby bird, and ran off.
I picked up the helpless little body. It was covered in slobber, a little blood, slightly disheveled. It was in better shape than the others, and it's heart was still beating, I felt the tiny beats, in my palm. I can't tell you how much I wanted that bird to live. I cradled it, and found the nest, right under the deck. I stood on tip toe and placed it back in. I begged it to live. It was so innocent. Why couldn't it live? I knew that it wanted to live.
It was God's creature, it had to live, it had to..... It didn't. I checked on it later, when the tent was out away, and the dog locked up, and the three dead bodies tossed into the rubbish pile. It's heart was dead, it was dead. I couldn't change that.
It's been three years, and now. My dog is dead. She shouldn't be, she should have lived five more years. She didn't. I wanted her to live.....but she didn't. She needed surgery. Really expensive surgery. My mom didn't want to spend that much. So my dad put her down.
It killed him to have to do it. He's hunted with her, played with her, stroked her. I had too. I cried and cried the night before mom told me. I was going away tonight. I couldn't see her last moments, or pet her one last time. It killed me too. I kept her tags, the entire week I was away, in my pocket. When I got home I saw the little grave they had dug, with the fake flowers on top, ones that can be kept there forever. There's no cross, no tombstone. I tell my self I'll make one for her. I tell my self I'll hang her tags on it. I tell myself many things I never do.
My dog killed those birds. My dad killed my dog, and someday, he's going to die too. I pray to God nobody kills him.
Death is like a boomerang. I'm going to die. Every day I die a little more. As much as I wish I wouldn't, I am. I can wish all I want that I won't, but all I can hope is that I go somewhere when I die. I wonder if dogs go to heaven? I wonder, if baby birds do? I hope so. I hope so.
