A German shepherd runs me down a dirt road. It's the same one that chased me for years and the street is exactly the same as before: empty of cars and people, trees and vegetation, there were only two of us on that street: the dog and me. Like when I was a kid.I thought dreams couldn't be repeated. I run and run and run and every now and then I look back, wishing it was gone. But it is. The dog keeps stalking me. I always heard that the dog was man's best friend, but this case threw away that myth. Maybe it wasn't a dog. Maybe I wasn't a man. A thick mist invades the place. I look back and the dog stops. Me, too. I try to get some air from anywhere, but all I can get is that mist that came out of nowhere. I realize the dog is more tired than I am. I go up to him and grab a shovel that's stuck next to him. I'm not enthusiastic about killing this dog, but it's a typical "him or me" case. And I'd rather it was him. I look into their eyes and I can't see myself reflected in them. They don't have glitter. I think: This dog's soul was beaten out of it. He puts the shovel back on the ground. The mist dissipates and I stand up again. I start chasing him again. There's only two of us on that deserted street. Him and me. A dog and a man.
YOU ARE READING
I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
