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The short story 1

Fractured Fairytale 13

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1

“Timothy!” I heard my mom, Stella, calling me from the kitchen. The smells of sizzling bacon and steaming black coffee traveled up stairs. I ran to the kitchen and the heat from the stove was inviting. Biscuits and gravy overflowed the top of my food bowl. It was my favorite food of all time and she rarely cooked it for me so I knew it was going to be a good day. As usual mom was rambling on the phone to someone about how our flight dates got messed up and they need to fix it as soon as possible. It is the beginning of a very long week of business meetings but I’m not complaining since I finally get to join.

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We got on our plane and I immediately leaped up on my recently fluffed dog bed. I hated sitting on the plain leather seats, they always feel uncomfortably cold against my fur. I was dressed in my new blue sweater which if I do say so myself complimented my black coat well. Mom looked the prettiest I have ever seen her. She wore a form fitting black dress, her long, dark hair wrapped in a tight bun, pointed toe heels, and diamond jewelry that made her tan skin glow.

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After reaching New York we were stuck waiting for our limo in the front of the airport. New York is complete chaos. Taxis are picking people up in every direction, hundreds of people rushing in and out of stores, and an ocean of honking cars and ringing phones filled my ears. Through all of this chaos I spotted a patch of grass near a small, helpless tree. I walked over and spotted a grasshopper bathing in the sun. While looking at this small creature the noises behind me slipped away.

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After a few minutes of looking I came back to reality but before I could bark to get mom’s attention she was in the limo. She was driven away and I was left alone. My heart was racing and my eyes were bugging out more than usual. The only thing I could think to do was walk with the rest of crowds of people. “Do these people know how to clean up after themselves?” I thought to myself. There is trash everywhere, gum covers every inch of the pavement, and smell of sewage danced in my nostrils. A dog like myself couldn’t live out here. 7

An hour of walking passed by and I grew more dehydrated with every step. I stopped to drink out of a puddle near an alley behind a clothing store. After two gulps a matted, sand colored dog popped out from behind the dumpster.

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“Hiya!” said the overexcited dog.

“Hello, what might your name be?” I replied.

“Call me Rex,” he said with his tongue half way out of his mouth.

“My name is Timothy. Do you know your way around the streets? If not, don’t waste my time please,” I said with an irritated tone.

“I have lived out here for a year, of course I know where I’m going,” he said with a smile.

Those were the best words I’ve heard all day. As we walked I told him about my mom and why we are in New York in the first place.

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“There are buildings as far as eyes can see here in New York. It would takes weeks, maybe months to go to every building to find her.” He looked at me waiting for words, but I didn’t have any.

“Well we must start now then,” I said through the stinging of tears reaching my eyes.

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