Dark Surprises
I wrote this short story for my friend, Krithea, over on FA, over a month ago for her birthday. She told me she liked it and thought it was cute. I totally forgot to post it here. So . . . here it is.
In short: A vixen returns home to a scary scenerio of a horrible fate that may have happened to her little human pet.
The jiggling of the metallic knob echoed throughout the room, with the all-too-familiar scraping of the key inside adding to it. An immediate huff could be heard, soon to be followed with a gorgeous vixen walking inside the darkly-lit home.
Krithea Archer's daily attire never hid her russet-red fur, mixed with her expansive white belly coating. Though, it was a sight barely able to behold in the darkness. A quick flip of the light switch soon changed that. The living room illuminated with the ceiling fan spinning on medium speed. The rush of wind flowing through Krithea's fur felt relaxing, as if little particles were capable to brush sentimentally.
She half-tossed her purse onto the couch and headed to the bedroom to change. The day wasn't necessarily one she would rate her best. In fact, considering the holler she heard from a passing wolf--one that, thankfully, no children were around to hear--was just one negative about her day, sleeping-in may have been a better option.
Aside from the safe and sound quantities of her home after a long day, she also anticipated seeing her little human, Oliver Keystone. From the day she found the tiny thing, alone and scared, feeding him, giving him a home and a new lease on life, he really made her life whole in some ways. Moving past the stage of not referring to him as a "Pet" (though Krithea still found it enjoyable to call him such, and he didn't mind it at all) just goes to show the care a little furless creature can create.
Walking to the bedroom, her light-as-air soft pads gracefully coming into contact with the ground, it wasn't hard to feel and hear the SQUELCH underneath. Immediately upon lifting her paw, she saw what something looked like a splotch of red . . . something. The unfamiliar substance drew curiosity from Krithea, until closer inspection brought notice of another splotch of red. And another. And another.
It was a trail of red splotches. It looked like it started all the way from the kitchen, past the living room, into the hallway, and turned right into her bedroom. This was no fancy trick, those weren't petals that lead to a bubble-filled and scented bathtub. Something was wrong. Little splotches of red. . . .
Krithea's heart frantically skipped beats in sheer terror; her once lighter-than-air pads thumping against the ground hard as she raced towards her bedroom. "OLIVER! OLIVER," she hollered, racing to the bedroom and nearly slipping twice in the trail of what she hoped not to be true.
She stood in her doorway, the hallway not fully illuminated from the living room, and looked down. The trail continued forward, right to the foot of her bed, and, somehow slithered up her sheets, ended in a huge lump on top. With the bedroom light off, and the street lights outside doing their best at shining bright through closed shades, Krithea already knew what she was looking at. And she was horrified.
A very quick flip of the switch revealed Oliver's body. His backside the only visible portion, covered in red and dripping down to form a small goopy puddle behind him.
"OLI--." Through Krithea's fear-induced state, she caught a scent that just filled the air in her room. An aroma she knew immediately that didn't exist in the human body. With her face straight up, muzzle lifted high, she took a quick whiff and smelled the air.
Strawberry, Krithea thought. More confused than ever, she stared at Oliver, her bending down next to him almost going unaware to her acknowledgement. He was covered in the substance. It wasn't inside his clothing, seeping through to the outside.
She peered over Oliver to see his face, free of any red, but eyes closed shut. Her heart and mind still racing, she saw that the red trail, which continued for about another inch ahead of Oliver, ended in the biggest splotch of them all. But the splotch was not uneven like the others. It was completely round. And to her surprise, there was lettering on it written in bright yellow . . .
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
It was a cookie. The red was strawberry frosting, not blood. It wasn't blood. Carrying a giant object like that cookie must have caused Oliver to make a few spills. And here he was, fast asleep on her bed, completely messy, like the little pet he was. It was all for her.
Krithea almost wanted to laugh at the thought that her little human was dead. From everything she had dealt with today, and now this ordeal that finds itself almost hilarious, she forgot it was her birthday.
Krithea couldn't help but smile at the little human that cared for her so. She bent her muzzle over him and lightly licked him once, from cheek to torso, the taste of strawberry heavy. Oliver ruffled in his sleep for just a second before becoming still again.
Still smiling, Krithea grabbed a pillow from the head of her bed and placed it right next to Oliver, doing her best to not rattle the bed and wake him as she laid down and rested her head.
She would clean up the mess later. Right now, she just wanted to relax and enjoy the rest of her birthday. With her smile still frequent on her face, Krithea closed her eyes, wondering what she and her pet would do to celebrate this late birthday upon waking up.