GREY
Full Member
Posts: 102
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Post by GREY on Feb 14, 2012 1:59:43 GMT -5
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The greyhound remembered this place. How could he forget? His life had essentially been one big cage, and half of it seemed like it was locked up here in a kennel. He was so lucky to have been released when the people all died, on leash, instead of chained up in there where he would have slowly starved to death. Mind, he was still starving to death, but at least now he had a chance to survive.
A nameless phantom, the brown dog constantly slipped back and forth through the rooms to visit the old skeletons and pay homage. He hadn't hated the humans at all. They'd nursed his broken leg back to health, given him his entire life. It had never occurred to him to think they'd utterly isolated him from other dogs, from socializing.
From learning his own name, in his own tongue. Smelling? What's so important about that? Seeing was everything. Sounds? What were those good for? He'd received praise only for winning a race. In his heart and soul, he couldn't help but wonder when the next race would be. When the humans were coming again to take him away, to feed and take care of him.
And to wonder what use he was, alone and unable to race. But then, he'd been wondering that ever since he'd broken his leg. It was fixed now, but the thought had never gone. He needed a purpose.
Because he was meaningless alone. There wasn't even a word to define him. That was how useless, so unimportant to life he was. Nameless and unknown.
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