The Story of Dwerf

There wasn’t much time once again. Dwerf hid the matches in his breast pocket. Its not that the task at hand was difficult, it just never went away. “That mutt’s gonna shut its yap and I’m gunna be left alone. No more yapin,” he said to himself, though as always, just quietly enough not to realize what he was actually thinking. And so he moved with naïve resolution to GET and to DO and be DONE. He imagined his foot poised heavily on the dogs throat, deciding whether and when he’d curl his toes to snap its neck. Or he thought of how his whole foot, planted firmly across the beast’s snout could simply crush down, smashing its teeth. “I’d like to see it yap then,” he mused, and walked into the thick of trees.

It was warmer in the forest. There was less wind and the eventual fire he’d build would crackle warmly without rushing. He’d have to be more careful indeed with so many hiding places for the dog, “But the trees can hide me too,” he consoled. And as he strode along Dwerf dreamed of pleasant days comfortable in his thoughts. However this day was growing long when he twice heard a crack and thrash of leaves. The white dog bit deep into the calf of his left leg and wouldn’t let go. Dwerf was in a panic shaking his leg running in circles, beating his limb against the trees, but the teeth just sank in deeper.

A crowd had gathered by now and was silently observing. Dwerf knew they wouldn’t say anything. That they’d simply watch without comment. If only he could get a statement… then the dog might release its grip. He thought of how painful it was. How if he had a sickle, he could just swoop down and lop off his troubles at the neck. How he’d pull apart the jaws and tear the lifeless head in two, much to the approval of the dumb spectators. But he didn’t have a sickle.

Tiny creatures called to each other and into the dark night. The white dog lay calmly next to the fire, its head on the ground between its two paws. Dwerf didn’t move much, just occasionally did he glance down at his bloodied leg. The dog watched the fire, seemingly unconcerned for the moment with Dwerf, but Dwerf kept his movements simple and made few of them. He wondered about the dog, if it would be gone in the morning as it usually was. He wondered about the fire, and when it would go out. Did the dog leave after or before the final flames disappeared? Dwerf thought about the matches. He pictured his hands moving from one pocket to another, transferring the small wooden box, as his eyelids were now growing heavy. He had said to himself, “That mutt’s gonna shut its yap,” and indeed the dog was quiet.

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