Creative Story Lonely Essay Research Paper Creative

Creative Story: Lonely Essay, Research Paper

Creative Story: Lonely

It was a quiet night. No cars driving by, honking their horns. No

sounds of little kids yelling. No dogs barking. Just peaceful and quiet. A

gentle breeze blew with an occasional smell of spring in it. The air was just

right, cool and fresh. Keith sat on his favorite porch rocking chair. He was

just relaxing and gathering his thoughts. He liked to think. He liked to think.

He thought about his dreams, he thought about his life and how it was going.

He thought about his dog and how it used to be a playful puppy full of energy.

It sure grew up fast. Keith thought about a girl he once fell in love with. He

should probably get married before he turned thirty. Who knows maybe he’ll

never get married.

As Keith sat there, now thinking about his new, red truck, he noticed

his shoe was untied. He stretched down to retie it and saw a small card beside

his foot. Funny, he hadn’t noticed it there before. Maybe it blew up in the

breeze. Yes that’s what happened, the wind had blown it there when he was off

in dreamland. Oh well, he thought and then he picked it up. The card had

printing on it. It simply read, “go look in your mail box”. Keith gave out a

small chuckle and thought about his mailbox. Was someone joking around with

him? It was probably that pesky neighbor boy, James. He was always coming up

with something new and unusual to try out on his neighbors. “What the hell”,

Keith said aloud. He then stood up and walked over to his mailbox and opened

it up. “Yep, another card”, he said. The same small, black print on it too.

Except this card said something just a little different.

As Keith ran to his back yard where his dog house was, all he could

think of was what the card had said in his mailbox. “YOUR dog is DEAD”. Keith

suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He could see blood. The dog house, which

he had just painted a nice fresh coat of white, was now covered with red,

blotchy stains. Blood everywhere. Who could have done such a deed? The golden

retriever that Keith had loved so much and raised for four years now lay dead.

There was hardly anything left of it. Its legs had been ripped completely off

and were thrown around the yard. Its head was nailed to the front of the dog

house. The body of his favorite and only pet was cut wide open and staked to the

ground like some kind of science dissection. Is this really happening, he

thought. He then leaned over and vomited up everything he had. He let it all

go, then sat and cried for his dog and all the pain it must have went through.

Keith realized that the mouth of the dog had something in it. Another damned

piece of paper. He snatched it out with anger and read it slowly. The paper

had some blood stains on it and had been wrinkled by the dogs still sharp teeth.

But it was still readable. It said, “Fools follow clues, and you are no fool”.

A few days later Keith got a call from the police which informed him

that their where no finger prints found except his own and not to worry about it.

They said it was probably some sick prank played buy some punk kids. Keith

agreed and hung up the phone. He was still shaken up buy the notes and his

deceased dog, but he was doing better. He had cleaned up the mess, burried his

dog, and hauled his dog house to a trash pile. He decided that a country drive

would do him some good. He needed to get out anyway. He also definitely needed

a wife now. He might lose his sanity if things like this kept happening to him.

He went outside and smelled the air. It smelled good. Someone was barbecuing

nearby. His mouth watered. He loved barbecued anything. Keith got in his new

truck and turned the key. The truck didn’t start. Keith frowned and thought

that usually new trucks start when they are less than a week old. That dealer

was going to here about this one. Yes sir. He didn’t like him much anyway.

The man was very loud and persuasive. He also smelled like a pine tree air

freshener.

Keith popped the hood of his truck and walked around to have a look.

Most trucks don’t start due to a dead battery or fuel flooding in the carburetor.

But this problem was different than that. On top of his new engine was another

piece of paper and where his battery had once been was the head of his dog he

had buried a few days earlier. Keith grabbed the note and ran inside. He read

it aloud and it said, “You better run far away because you only have a few

minutes before your house blows up”. Sure enough Keith smelled gas. He ran

out of the house and to the neighbor’s house. As soon as he got to the door his

house blew apart. Why was this happening to him? Who was responsible for this

madness? Why in the hell would someone go to such extreme trouble? This was

not the work of some kids gone rebel, that was for sure. He used the phone and

c

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