White Dog (my first short story)

The worn out train could be seen breaking through the fog and coming to a screeching halt at an old train station. The war had finally ended and Jacob could now finally see his family. He is relieved and hopes not to return to any major bad news. He has had enough of that in his life, courtesy of WW ll.

As Jacob exits the train, images flash into his head. He has seen plenty of gruesome scenes in these past three years. His feeling of regret return to him again. He is not sure which of his personal actions had been right and which ones not. Although Jacob knows that he was defending his nation, he still feels that that does not justify much.

However, Jacob cut off these thoughts. No use in depressing himself anymore than necessary. He wants to be as joyful as possible for he would finally see his wife, children, brother, sister, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and maybe even his dog if she is still alive.

It is already dusk and he knows that it will be getting really dark soon. He begins his three mile journey home, a route he still remembers very well. Jacob walks on the dirt road that cut through the forest, taking shortcuts he knows of on the way. He thinks about the meal that will undoubtedly be prepared once he arrives. He thinks about his children that he will hopefully recognize. He thinks about the future of his homeland.

Suddenly, about a half mile away from home, Jacob cuts short the whistling he was going at on and off for the past half hour and remembers a bridge whose construction had begun before the war. He knows that it will be fully built by now, so he backtracks a little and heads forward.

He could already see the bridge that stretches over the rapid, currently overflowing river when a dog jumps out from some nearby trees, between him and the bridge, and turns its head to face Jacob. Although it is night and hard to see in the musky fog, he could recognize the dog. It is Saba, the stray, young Tatra Mountain sheepdog he had adopted before he went out to fight for his country. He knows this from several reasons. First, not many people are fool enough to allow a full grown sheepdog to escape. Second, he asked his brother Ted to unleash her into the forest at night for exercise, before going to sleep, whenever possible. Third, if the dog was not Saba, he would probably be under her right now being mauled.

Dogs that size serve one main purpose: to guard property and they are insanely aggressive to anyone but people they know and trust. Of course, Jacob always interacted with his dogs at night and let them get exercise, a job Ted had taken over. He opposes the cruelty of keeping a dog tied up to a confined space with a small dog house and leaving it there for the rest of its life, regardless of rain, snow, ice, wind, or temperature.

Jacob is overjoyed. “Saba, hello there girl. Do you recognize me?” Jacob asks his dog in a soothing voice while approaching. The dog leaps towards the direction it is facing and turns to look at him again, but not before Jacob manages to notice markings on its body that convince him that this could only be Saba. Jacob walks towards the great dog with the intention of letting it sniff his hand and maybe pet it. However, Saba, as Jacob now knows for sure it is, leaps in the same direction her body is facing, takes a few steps forward, and turns around to face Jacob.

What are you doing? Jacob wonders. He continues towards the bridge but the sheepdog sprints in font of Jacob's path, pauses, turns around, and takes a few steps forward toward the same direction as before. “So you want me to go that way, eh? Okay, fine, I do not know why, since this way is faster, but we will have it your way.” Jacob is a little annoyed, but does not care. After all, he has reunited with a friend in which he feared would no longer be alive.

He trusts no one with his animals. The fact that he actually cared for his creatures often made life hard. His neighbors thought him weird and even childlike for his passion. Jacob does not care, after all, did not Saint Francis of Assisi, his patron saint, teach to treat God's creatures with respect?

Jacob continues walking after the dog, now paying almost no attention to the forest's animals in which he had a habit of looking out for out of interest. “Saba, slow down. Don't walk so fast. I only have two legs.” Saba stops, turns her head to look backwards, and continues walking after her master caught up a little.

After some time, the old bridge could be seen at the edge of the forest. The bridge is not very wide as it is only intended to allow walkers, hikers, curious children, and mushroom pickers go to and from the village. The two, master and dog, cross the bridge with Saba still at the lead. Up ahead Jacob could now see houses. They are just as they were before he departed, the war left it untouched. He turns left and continues. It is apparent that everyone is asleep. Only crickets and dogs could be heard and wandering cats seen. Jacob feels relieved and becomes even more excited as he turns right. His home and the house of his brother are down the road.

At long last Jacob walks past his brother's stable, turns right, heads past his own stable, and towards his house, three yards behind Saba. Jacob smiles, puts down his pack, and begins to aggressively knock on the door, but not before ridding his boots of some of the mud that he picked up in the wet forest

In the meantime, his wife is sleeping on the couch not far from the door and immediately awakes, startled. It is never a good thing to hear knocking past midnight. The children upstairs, where there are only two small bedrooms, had also awaken but did not stir out of fear. Jacob's wife cautiously walks towards the door. “Who is it,” she asks somewhat loudly though sleepily. “Your husband, wife” comes her warm, slightly mocking reply. She instantly recognizes the voice, fumbles with the well-locked door, and swings it open. The married couple hug and kiss until Jacob's son, Kasper, appears with a confused look on his face. The boy does not recognize his own father for he was too young when Jacob left to remember.

After the awkward reunion with his son and two daughters, Jacob is seated. “You must be hungry after the walk from the train station,” says Jacob's wife, Aniela, and begins preparing tea and a large sandwich with leftover butter that had been churned earlier in the day. While doing so, she promises to prepare a big feast the following morning.

Jacob's wife is half done making the sandwich when he remembers that he had completely forgotten about Saba in the excitement. “Aniela, I just remembered that I forgot to leash our dog, let me go out and do it. I would have been home sooner if she had only let me use that new bridge. I guess Ted was in the forest with her when she picked up on my scent and found me; she must have an extraordinary sense of smell. He must have gone back home expecting her to return or is still looking for her. I suppose I should go to his house and tell-” Jacob stops mid sentence because he realizes that his wife is looking at him suspiciously.

“Aniela, why are you looking at me like that,” Jacob asked slowly with a similar look on his face. “Jacob, what dog are you talking about?” she asked curiously. “The only dog we had was that young sheepdog that you left your brother to take care of.”

Aniela turns around and approaches the window above the old wood-burning stove. She gazes towards the direction of the nearby forest. “Saba died last autumn. Ted and I buried her. We knew that's what you would have wanted us to do.” Aniela continues staring solemnly out the window towards the direction of the forest, where lies the grave of Saba.

The next day, a rumor spread and was received by Jacob's family through a nearby neighbor that the newer bridge had a large hole in the center. It had been weakened by termites and the moisture from the recent rain and fog caused it to partially give way. Had Jacob crossed it, he certainly would not have noticed the hole in time to stop himself from falling to his painful, watery death.

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Note: This is the only thing I have written to completion that was not part of a homework assignment. I would appreciate any comments, compliments, suggestions, rejections, advice, and...uhm....ahh screw it, I don't feel like coming up with something that rhymes with advice...

I'm not sure if I did the right thing by making the tense present, or if I made any mistakes.

Anyway, I was inspired to write the story by this:

www.ghosts.org...


[edit on 202/22/0808 by Acekwak]

I find your story to be very well written. For a future inspiration, try delving into your imagination a bit more and look for new ideas.