Draft of my short story

THE LONG WALK TO PARADISE

Today was both the end and a day without end.  My soul was set free from longing for what could never be but the mental rewind of   “I should have or I could have and maybe I would have …” from an early 90s R and B track sent shivers down my spine, sweat trickled down every crevice of my frame but worst of all was that the incessant “boom, boo-ooom, boo-ooooooo-ooom” happening somewhere upstairs,   which imprisoned me in a vacuum of time and space. I stood there all alone on the damp concrete slab motionless and stupefied   and “It really could not get any worse than this” –or, so I thought.  Suddenly the self-apportioned twelve square inches of terra firma was eroding beneath my feet, my body zigzagged, it jolted to the rhythms in my soles, and I was sinking fast, sinking fast into a quagmire.

“Aaarrrrr-rrrrrrrr-aaaaaa-aaaaaa-aaarrr! Rrrr-rrr-oo! ” I’m not in a man-hole after all; I look down and my feet are still firmly planted to the ground. “Tap-tap”, I feel my legs, they are slick with sweat but now paralyzed. My hindsight catches his car slowly moving away. My mind races, a swift decision is eminent. I can swallow my pride and run after   you or, stay glued to this muddy spot to frolic in the mess of things. But, what you have done to me makes me feel so sub-human, “Sub-human, that’s funny, for I am a dog.” A “rubbish breed” you said to me over and over again-but I am a light–brown, furry, short-nosed mongrel to be precise.  A salty tear showers the tip of my tongue, and I helplessly break down into a cupful of tears, as the battered Land Rover fades away in a cloud of dust. This was the last time that I saw you and the moment that I knew, that I had willfully closed one chapter of my life, so that I could commence this torturous life anew. A life that was full of abuse in every facet imaginable: forceful kicks in my hollow ribs, two-day old food scraps for a Sunday meal, “Squeezy” baths with a wooden scrubbing brush just once a month, half-empty bowls of water for both me and the cat and I often longed for a kennel when I was caught out in the rain.

I choose to distance myself from the moment and with sheer instinct I've entered survival mode. I  focus on the situation at hand and steadfastly look on. I look on towards the flashing lights: red, blue, orange, silver, green, collectively twinkling in the hillside. I plod on, and on, smack in the middle of the sandy, yet dusty stretch of road, faithfully guided by the iridescent lights. The rain drizzles every now and then, my coat's disheveled, but I don't dash for shelter under the thick underbrush. Instead, I  open my mouth so very wide, to allow the not so plentiful raindrops, to soothe my parched throat. As great a blessing as this was, this seemingly instantaneous relief was not in the least beat rejuvenating. Hunger pangs clawed at my stomach walls and gas dissipated through my tummy; I  was much more hungry than I was thirsty.

Soon the rain poured down in torrents and I ran for cover under several thick bushes that had formed a massive canopy. The distance had by then took a toll on my short stumps and it was there that I rested for some time, drifting in and out of slumber, seemingly under a spell from the chilly, sea breeze.

"Grgroog-grrg! Groo-rrroog!" I could both hear and feel those thunderous sensations, reverberating in the pit of my stomach. Another nightmare had struck, but this time I didn't panic. I sensibly knelt down reverently and muttered this silent prayer:

"Dear Lord, I am enveloped by shadows of darkness with no one to turn to. I am o.k with me, myself and I but I cannot endure the anguish from all three of us who are mentally, physiologically and emotionally starved. I am ravenous, dear Lord and food does not seem near. I  think of an encroaching death and sacrifice every now and again; though just a tiny morsel will  silence all my fears. Oh, dear Lord, my life seems so repressive and unfair!  If you are listening ,please will you answer my prayer?"

Led by faith and the glistening lights which dotted the nearby hillside, I kept on walking till I crossed a bridge and approached a fork in the road. The typical left or right scenario did not play out well, for in a split second I chose to go right.It wasn't a hunch, but that all too familiar smell permeating through the air that lured me there." BBQ chicken and roasted fish! Mmmm! Mmmm!" Now lost in the moment, I smack my lips together and close my eyes. I am savouring this incredible milestone in my life- I learnt that God does watch over his children and answers genuine prayers.

How much more lucky could an orphan like me get? Unpremeditated, I walked  into a vibrant, cosmopolitan atmosphere: so many humans in all colours, shapes and sizes congregated in one spot. Seemingly, winding down and making merry after a hard day's work. More precisely, there were  locals and tourists drinking Heineken and Piton beers, and may I not forget, the local rum and rum punch. Chicken and fish were eaten with fingers or  fork and knife, and the scraps tossed about on to the sand-swept yard. The local parlance and "nouvelle" punctured my eardrums, and last but not least, the local soca music blared through loud speakers.

Enough about the humans and their revelry; my next course of action was to boldly step in front of a dog, just as small  as I, and to grab at a huge chicken bone. She scrutinized me from head to paw, and didn't scowl  or growl; she then cocked her head on one side, wagged her tail, and briskly walked away. My eyes followed her around the yard; there she was, crouched down just as I, enjoying a meal. In retrospect, I thought "Why should she fuss and fight? Wasn't the  ground  littered with more than enough scraps for us two ?"

My ink has dried and the page is near ending and I am silently wishing that someday the full story could be told. It was nevertheless a very eventful night, which has been carved into my long-term memory. For it was on that night, that night, twelve years ago, that I met my dear wife Luanne. Luanne in a nutshell, is the bitch who melted my heart, made me "human" again. In her I see someone to live and to dream for. Though, still reserved and shy, its her loyalty and devotion that means the world to me. Regrettably, I have befriended lots of other bitches who have gnawed at her pedestal-all commonly oblivious to their futility. Admittedly, I am  a "dog" who has fathered many and loved few, but one cannot entirely  lay the blame on me, for life is fun, much too simple and carefree around here. I call it a dog's paradise because dreams and wishes do come true by asking, and seldom resorting to taking. I love my life now and would not want it any other way. Lest we not forget though, that it all began when my then 'owner' Meshack, abandoned me in the dark of night, on 1st August, 2000  at Pigeon Point.