Pretty Penny Writing Prompt 6

We did this writing exercise in class and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was scared out of my wits because I don’t write in front of people, but it got so much easier! I’d say it almost got me out of my writing slump.

After guided questions to the find a movie that worked, I landed on I Am Legend. Created in 2007 and starring Will Smith, this movie absolutely traumatized me. Not only were there terrifying zombie/vampire creatures with the ability to think, but the dog died! Will Smith’s character had to strangle his own beloved dog after she got bit by one of those creatures and started to turn. The whole movie up until this point had focused on how they survived together, and then he was alone.

So, I chose to rewrite this. Will Smith’s character, Robert, has just survived the attack, largely in part to his beloved pooch. In the aftermath, he’s terrified for her well-being:

She got bit.

Surely she made it out. Surely they didn’t get her.

Those nightmarish demons crawled out of nowhere. They set a goddamn trap! There’s no way they bit her. Not when she’s the only reason I’m still alive.

My eyes cloud over, whether with tears or dirt or bodily fluid, I don’t know. There must be blood dripping down my face, but I can’t feel it.

I walk in a daze over to Angel, my perfect, fearless, protector of a German shepherd. She’s laying on her side, breathing heavier and faster than any healthy beast should. The whites of her eyes dart in a panicked understanding of the reality of our situation.

My steps are heavy, inconsistent. But nothing will keep me from reaching my best friend. Even as the world spins around me, her image stays focused in the center. I hear her whine, lonely and scared, in pained recognition as I make my approach.

I bend down and embrace her, feeling immediately for any signs of a bite. Her heart rate increases. She cries, but I’m not finding any blood. Maybe, just maybe, she’s alright?

I press down on her right hock and she lets out a loud yelp. I hold my breath and bend to check for blood, but there is none. Her coat is as clean as when we left the house.

I immediately break out in tears, relief swallowing me as whole as the clouds of dust we sit in. She’s fine. She won’t turn into one of those awful creatures, hiding from the sun and living in rot. My sweet Angel definitely has a broken leg, but she can heal from that.

We can heal. Together. With the sun setting quickly over the city skyline, I scoop my Angel as gently as a babe and walk us home with a renewed sense of hope and appreciation.

Maybe we’ll both be okay.