Septiplier One-Shots

Dreams and Nightmares (Part 1)

*Mark's POV*

"Chica! C'mere, pup!"

I called out for her restlessly, but I never heard her normal responsive 'borf'. I was walking in a forest, and the farther into it I walked, the darker and denser it became.

"Chica! C'mon girl, where are you...?" I asked, mostly to myself.

I eventually reached a clearing in the trees, of which I could now barely fit through the space between. I was relieved to see my beautiful golden retriever lying in the center of it.

"Chica!"

I ran to her, and she twitched. That wasn't like her at all. I ceased running, still a good distance away.

"Chica...?"

The life form stood, and though it had once been Chica, it no longer was. My beloved dog had turned to a terrible beast with red eyes, a foaming mouth, a low growl, and a piercing glare. She leapt at me and I narrowly dodged her body, which she carelessly hurled at me with whatever energy she had left. I kept backing up further and further, running part of the way...

And then I tripped over the handle of an axe.

Horrified and terribly desperate, I stood, axe in hand. The hand didn't feel like my own, but I continued with the actions some outside force told me to carry out.

Before I knew it, Chica was charging at me, snarling with teeth fully exposed and chomping at me from a distance as she ran. She neared at an alarming rate, and when she went for a jump, probably to rip out my jugular, I swung the axe and then-

My alarm. And a cold, wet object on the back of my hand. I perfunctorily pressed 'snooze' and opened my eyes to see Chica, nosing my hand, which was how she always woke me up. I wasn't scared in the slightest because I knew the instant I felt that nose it was the real Chica, my Chica.

"Hey, girl... You sleep well?"

She had her own silly way of smiling at me as I rubbed and patted her head gently. She licked my hand as I pulled it away, making me instinctively wipe my hand on my pajama pants.

"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed, standing to start the day. I'd gotten up an hour earlier than I normally would've, for it was inspection day.

In the year 2021, America was handed off to a man named Samuel Quinn. He outlawed dogs, as well as their owners. Books and movies about dogs were removed from everywhere, including homes. If he found anything suspicious, he'd burn it. If a human was suspected of harboring a dog, he burned them too. He was Hitler for dogs, really.

Along with these new anti-dog laws came new policies, such as the weekly inspection days. Every Thursday, policemen and sometimes even government officials drop by all homes to ensure there are no dog books, movies, photos, and, most importantly, no dogs.

What prompted this, you ask? Well, we were informed that dogs were soulless and, therefore, don't deserve to live.

However, the more popular story is that President Quinn was hated by animals as a child, but especially dogs. And he got so accustomed to that feeling that it became mutual.

I guess dogs can tell how people truly are even before they know it themselves, not that I've personally ever doubted that.

Of course, with any new trend, whether it be fashion or law, there are those who oppose it, the rebels. As you can imagine, animal activists and dog owners everywhere immediately rejected the new law, thereby committing heresy in the government's perspective. They call themselves The Saviors, and I'm one of them. We're recognized by a small paw-print tattoo on any part of our body.

  It's not easy hiding Chica, but it's more than worth it. She's my best friend, and I truly love her. It's why I go through all the trouble.

I quickly vacuumed and put Chica in her cage, hidden away in the wall. I vacuumed more and sprayed air freshener, thankful that Chica didn't shed too much. I finished just in time to hear the doorbell.

I opened it, and surely enough, there stood an officer. I welcomed him into my home politely, so not to raise any suspicion. Something told me, though, that he wasn't like other policemen. Maybe it was the smile he wore where a scowl should've been. Maybe it was the way he seemed so relaxed, rather than alert and determined to find the slightest problem.

And maybe, just maybe, it was his wild green hair.