lures.
Needless to say, with lures twice the size of the small fry we did not hook any of them. Much to our horror, what did latch onto my eight-hook lure was a glistening emerald green frog with dappled brown spots. As it wriggled and struggled to break free, the hook dug deeper into its neck. It entangled itself in the line and looked so helpless with every panicked lurch. By the time I got close enough to try and dislodge the hook, its underbelly was ripped wide open and its entrails fell out. Rudy and I totally freaked out. We cut the line and ran home.
The following day we returned. The frog was half eaten away with the hook still speared through its upper torso, but to our amazement it was looking up at us blinking its eyes. How could this frog still be alive? Why wouldn’t it die?
Throughout my life these strange unexplainable events heightened. It was futile to try and kill even the most disgusting of insects that landed on me. I would smash their bodies with the swift impact of my hand. But even though their mangle bodies appeared lifeless, I would see them twitch weeks later.
One day on my way to school I hit a dog with my car. I messed it up horrifically. His body was strewn all over the road in a smear of crimson, fur, and guts. I began to pick up what was left of his body that sweltered in the morning sun. As I scraped his head off of the pavement, he looked directly up at me; his tongue trying to lick me as blood oozed from his mouth. There was no reason in the world why he should still be alive. Later that night I went down into the basement and emptied an old toy box I had as a child. I placed the remains of the dog into the box and dragged it out into the field where I buried it in a shallow grave.
I should have put more effort into digging the hole deeper because to this day on soft quiet summer nights, I can hear that damn dog whimpering from that grave even with years of growth covering it.
As time passed, I became more aware of this curse and tried to avoid people the best I could. I shut myself away from the world. I worried about what would happen if I was out in public and someone was torn to shreds in a car accident when I was present? Would they too not die?
It’s been almost three years since I met Samantha. I was delivering cleaning supplies to the local high school in town. After signing in at the main office, I headed toward the warehouse. All of a sudden the deafening sound of the fire alarm sounded.
I freaked out. Everyone filled the halls pushing and shoving while trying to make their way to an exit. A young lady lost her balance and fell back into me. I raised my hand and placed it in the small of her back. I felt the warmth and softness of her skin through her faded Counting Crows concert shirt. She turned her head and glanced at me. I was left breathless. Her sky blues eyes had me floating in them. She reached around and took my hand into hers and from that very moment she changed my life forever.
We began talking over the phone. And although I wanted to take her out, my fear of crowds kept me at bay. She never quite understood why I feared being around a lot of people. I just couldn’t tell her what a freak I am. So I chose to wait, and thankfully one day she decided to visit.
_________
Last night brought violent skies as Samantha came stumbling into my house. It was a sound that will forever haunt my waking moments and twilight. Her delicate body slapped against the steps falling viciously down into the dank-cold cellar. There she laid at the bottom of the steps in the dark.
I flew down the steps knowing that no matter what I did I could never end what she was experiencing. Her neck was broken and her skin was already turning into shades of purple. She looked like a rag doll with her head twisted upward while the rest of her body lay in a contorted mass.
Taking her into my arms I smelled alcohol on her;
Needless to say, with lures twice the size of the small fry we did not hook any of them. Much to our horror, what did latch onto my eight-hook lure was a glistening emerald green frog with dappled brown spots. As it wriggled and struggled to break free, the hook dug deeper into its neck. It entangled itself in the line and looked so helpless with every panicked lurch. By the time I got close enough to try and dislodge the hook, its underbelly was ripped wide open and its entrails fell out. Rudy and I totally freaked out. We cut the line and ran home.
The following day we returned. The frog was half eaten away with the hook still speared through its upper torso, but to our amazement it was looking up at us blinking its eyes. How could this frog still be alive? Why wouldn’t it die?
Throughout my life these strange unexplainable events heightened. It was futile to try and kill even the most disgusting of insects that landed on me. I would smash their bodies with the swift impact of my hand. But even though their mangle bodies appeared lifeless, I would see them twitch weeks later.
One day on my way to school I hit a dog with my car. I messed it up horrifically. His body was strewn all over the road in a smear of crimson, fur, and guts. I began to pick up what was left of his body that sweltered in the morning sun. As I scraped his head off of the pavement, he looked directly up at me; his tongue trying to lick me as blood oozed from his mouth. There was no reason in the world why he should still be alive. Later that night I went down into the basement and emptied an old toy box I had as a child. I placed the remains of the dog into the box and dragged it out into the field where I buried it in a shallow grave.
I should have put more effort into digging the hole deeper because to this day on soft quiet summer nights, I can hear that damn dog whimpering from that grave even with years of growth covering it.
As time passed, I became more aware of this curse and tried to avoid people the best I could. I shut myself away from the world. I worried about what would happen if I was out in public and someone was torn to shreds in a car accident when I was present? Would they too not die?
It’s been almost three years since I met Samantha. I was delivering cleaning supplies to the local high school in town. After signing in at the main office, I headed toward the warehouse. All of a sudden the deafening sound of the fire alarm sounded.
I freaked out. Everyone filled the halls pushing and shoving while trying to make their way to an exit. A young lady lost her balance and fell back into me. I raised my hand and placed it in the small of her back. I felt the warmth and softness of her skin through her faded Counting Crows concert shirt. She turned her head and glanced at me. I was left breathless. Her sky blues eyes had me floating in them. She reached around and took my hand into hers and from that very moment she changed my life forever.
We began talking over the phone. And although I wanted to take her out, my fear of crowds kept me at bay. She never quite understood why I feared being around a lot of people. I just couldn’t tell her what a freak I am. So I chose to wait, and thankfully one day she decided to visit.
_________
Last night brought violent skies as Samantha came stumbling into my house. It was a sound that will forever haunt my waking moments and twilight. Her delicate body slapped against the steps falling viciously down into the dank-cold cellar. There she laid at the bottom of the steps in the dark.
I flew down the steps knowing that no matter what I did I could never end what she was experiencing. Her neck was broken and her skin was already turning into shades of purple. She looked like a rag doll with her head twisted upward while the rest of her body lay in a contorted mass.
Taking her into my arms I smelled alcohol on her;
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