FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I stare up at the darkening sky above me. My ears throb, flicking softly, and my neck jerks awkwardly with every harsh, heavy beat of my heart. It pounds in my chest, tightening with each shuddery breath I take in. I pull the cold, frosty air into my lungs and hold it there, the serene crackling feeling the only reassurance that I am breathing. My breath is shallow and soft, a weak whimper groaning out with every exhale. Death is resting by my feet. He is waiting with his scythe armed, waiting with his smug grin, waiting for me to give up. With the last of my energy burning away, I look up. Up, into the secrets of the universe.

I've always loved the stars. I see Pegasus and Pisces, and a salty tear drips into my mouth as I smile meekly. I follow the belt of stars along the purple sky, the soft spiral of the Milky Way a glistening landmark of realism, an existential phenomenon of life. My eyes flick over to the Big Dipper, following the imaginary lines my father taught me to navigate. Follow it North, up to Polaris, and the memories of a simpler life flick by.

I remember when my greatest worry was having a cold. High temperature, cold sweats, a runny nose and sore throat. It felt like hell on Earth. Lying back on my pillows, mind blank, eyes groggily staying half open. I remember trying to entertain myself, but no book was distracting enough to sweep my attention from the sickness. How fickle, how ignorant I was, to think that was the worst that could ever happen to me.

I imagine how the funeral would be if they ever found my body. A coy smile creeps over my face as if it were the funniest thing in the world. People crying over me, reciting poems and hymns, for me. I trace my thoughts, unable to deduce whether my amusement is from the fact that they'll never find my body, or if I'm a horrible person.

***

On the 10th of October 2097, the world welcomed Fritz Furfaro to the world. A miracle baby, supposedly. Born to Karl Furfaro, the evil, infamous leader of a dodgy multi-millionaire enterprise, I was thrust into the jaws of the media before I could even blink. Cameras in my face, recording every action I performed, reporting every diaper or bottle feed that occurred. My mother, Grace, died in childbirth. Naturally, I never knew her, but I had wished for years that I did. I get my fur markings from her; the gentle arcs of dark hair lazily swooping across my back, the off-white fluff at the end of my tail, and the dark patches on my ears, all identical to hers. From my father, well, we're both foxes, and both have striped bristles of fur on our legs. Apart from that, we couldn't be more different.

My upbringing was one of misery. Kept at the mansion, I was never allowed out by myself, only with my father to get a suit tailored or for publicity stunts. I was taught at home, from a small room in the cellar, but I never used to attend. I had a passion for books, and, whilst reading about the events of the world, I realised everything I was being fed was biased towards my father--I was taught that he was a sweet, charitable fox, not the ruthless governor of a drug monopoly who killed anyone who dared cross him.

It's not like he was a horrible dad though, albeit a little absent. We spent some time together, learning how to shoot guns and aim rifles, learning how to drive fast and stealthily, how to write off taxes and avoid confrontation. He was training me up to be his heir, to continue the legacy of the Furfaros, to be as violent as him. Everything was according to his plan.

Well one day, I had enough.

It was a warm summer's evening, the air misty and fresh after a particularly refreshing downpour the previous night. The concrete was left with that sweet-sick smell of petrichor, the leaves gently dripping, clinging onto their precious water as best they could. The crickets were chirping loudly in the sprawling fields of dead grass behind the mansion and the sky had that purple-grey tint to it that was sure to invoke some sort of serene feeling.

I was sitting outside on the decking, a cup of tea in my paws, looking up at the stars and planets. I would always search for little red dwarfs and their familiar scarlet glow faintly twinkling in the midst of more powerful stars. I might even have felt sorry for them; I knew how it felt.

"Master Fritz!" cried a voice just out of eyeshot, slightly muffled by the glass door. I heard the metal slide as the waft of cool air from the kitchen spread over where I was sitting. "Master Fritz, it is past your curfew! If your father finds out--"

"Geoffrey, you know I've told you not to call me master. It's weird," I said calmly, turning around to look at him. Geoffrey was my personal butler and took care of the more non-violent fatherly parts such as sympathy and kindness. He was a short wolf with a distinctive grey beard, and he always wore a neat purple tie. He was always so warm and friendly to me, but I always felt a slight apprehension about him.

"Oh, yes... Fritz. It is just unnatural, you see, I was always taught to do so. Now, perhaps you shall bring your tea up to your bedroom? At least then your father will not be concerned about your absence," he continued with a polite grin on his face.

"Yeah, thanks, Geoffrey. I'll be up in a moment," I said dismissively. The wolf bowed his head respectfully and hurried off into the maze of corridors to finish his other duties.

I returned my gaze to the stars, and then down, slowly, to the long hedgerow surrounding the garden. A stumpy collection of thorns and sharp leaves was there to keep me in more than anyone else out. But on this occasion, I spied a little hole, like a pathway, clearly destined for me. It seemed as though the heat and rain had killed and then washed away the debris, the fate of the universe telling me to go through.

I looked back at the kitchen guilty. Was I really about to do this? As I stood up cautiously, I couldn't help but think about going upstairs and returning to normality. It would be the right thing to do.

Fuck it. Mug on the floor. The blanket dropped hastily. The door shut silently. I snuck over to the hedge and peered through the gap. It was a little tight at points, but otherwise, perfectly sized. I got onto my paws and knees; the harsh dirt was a little moist from the precipitation. I began to crawl through, a few loose branches snagging on my fur and wrapping around my tail. No time for that. I just kept crawling, kept moving forward, out into the wild, out into the world.

And then, for the first time in all my youth, I was free.