TRYING TO STAY ALIVE Frankie McNamara She leaned against the crumbling brick wall, trying her best to blend in with the shadows. She was won’ied that she was going to be seen by the planes or the snipers Right now the only thing protecting her from being spotted or killed was this wall. This wall... Show moreTRYING TO STAY ALIVE Frankie McNamara She leaned against the crumbling brick wall, trying her best to blend in with the shadows. She was won’ied that she was going to be seen by the planes or the snipers Right now the only thing protecting her from being spotted or killed was this wall. This wall used to be the coffee shop that she used to go to with her parents be- fore the war started. Both of her parents had been killed in a bombing raid 6 months ago. They both worked at the factory, which produced weapons for the war effort. The bombs had destroyed most of the city including the factory and they’re not many places to hide anymore. The taan and the soldiers of the enemy were approach— ing the city and would surely try to take over the city but we are not going to let that happen. The war had been going on for two years now, there was no end in sight, and we did not know what was going to happen to our City. Since her parents died she did not know what to do, they were her rock and she did not have any other family. She was sent to an orphanage by the government 34 but she did not like it there so she escaped. She had been living on the streets trying to stay aliw and doing almost anything to find food. She went back to her house to see if was still there. She believed it would be a safe place to live during the war. When she arrived at her house, there was a tank in the front lawn, many cars parked in the driveway, and enemy soldiers patrolling around her old neighborhood. Upon seeing this she began to get scared and panic a little bit. Then she remembered the coffee shop. last time she went there it was still in busines only a few weeks ago. When she got there it was closed and boarded up. She thought to herself this is a good place to hide because no one would care to look. She found an opening in the boarded up window and she had to squeeze her body in the small opening Once, inside she went scmunging for food and stuffto start a fire. The first place she went to look was in the kitchen, all she could find there was: coffee, stale bread, canned tuna fish, and some padtets of cream and sum: The next place, she looked was the dining room there Show less
As the boy circles back out of View, the old man shifts his gaze to that old gull, returned a: last to the safety of its fellows, and pecking at something in the sand. 53
LOVE Danny Polaschek It is dark and it is loud. I am drunk in this clarity because tonight I’m in love. I’m vulnerable car-pumping shadow, in awe ofit all. I glance to it. I’m lost in it. And I couldn’t imagine it being here,look there—people everywhere—and I’m any other way. not quite sure what... Show moreLOVE Danny Polaschek It is dark and it is loud. I am drunk in this clarity because tonight I’m in love. I’m vulnerable car-pumping shadow, in awe ofit all. I glance to it. I’m lost in it. And I couldn’t imagine it being here,look there—people everywhere—and I’m any other way. not quite sure what to do with myself. The shadow rolls over me, a wave of smoke andjumbled bass, and welcomes me in. I am vulnerable to it. A hand reaches out to me, foreign fingers suddenly tangled in mine. A gentle pull. I am vulnerable to it. Songs float by, one after another, all blending to create a soundtrack of lust and dark romance. I am lost in it. I find my palms strapped loose to your hips, afraid to hold on too tightly. Momentarin my cheek rests against yoursmour flushed faces are hot against one another. You whisper to me and you smile; it's completely inaudible. I smile too, and shrug my shoulders, hoping you'll continue telling your secrets. I won't hear a word, the smoke muffs the sound, but I‘ll gladly be oblivious ifyour lips will keep brushing softly against my ear. This isjust a phase, a moment ofhaze. and yet I tell myselfits 81 Show less
SILENT EMBER Jazmin Crittenden The beauty ofsilence, is the beauty ofsilence. A pen could drop on these pale gray tiles, echoing into nothing—engulfed by silence’s power. For these ones they mistake the silence as a sign of the weak, the powerless. Little do they know that silence is anything but... Show moreSILENT EMBER Jazmin Crittenden The beauty ofsilence, is the beauty ofsilence. A pen could drop on these pale gray tiles, echoing into nothing—engulfed by silence’s power. For these ones they mistake the silence as a sign of the weak, the powerless. Little do they know that silence is anything but it‘s the element surrounding everything alive and distilled. Here, there is chaos, while the silence awaits to engulfthe building and its contained beings into nothing. Her mother knew 0fthis nothingness, it engulfed her, leaving her body an empty cavity never stirring from bed. “Be silent,” she had always whispered before tucking the girl in meanwhile glass crashed and cries downstairs were drowned out with muffled yells that erupted into the place once called home. The hues of her eyes wavered from green to blue as her shaking hand stroked her hair and her lower petal-glossed lip quivered. “Ember?” The voice quipped, slightly rocky due to the caffeine leaking down his throat. Re- 46 ality sets in, as her eyes scanned the weak being, determining his worthiness ofexistence. The round glasses brimmed his nose leaning indefinitely towards the left where his ear clearly tucked behind his silver-coated hair was lopsided. The blick pen, with about halfa milliliter ofink scribbled away on the large yellow notepad resting on his largely. over-panted, skinny, crossed legs. Ember's eyes ignored the French vanilla coffee stain over his left breast and continued about the room. Sound- proofwalls with nothing but cream paint plastered ‘ carelessly about the room—this is where her silence will grow, expand, and overpower. One exit, two l typical five shelved bookcases leaned against the wall adjacent to the desk inhabited by this man. “I understand that this transition is hard Em- ber,” he gulped adjusting his collar. “But in order to i get you out ofhere we must talk." He paused. “l re- ally would like to help you, this place isn‘t pleasant dear, not many—“His hand shifted to his throat, I l i l Show less
“I had to work before coming, but what’s the point, really? This is how I always look. Like a clown. Did you not see my car? Where would I put a pack of cigarettes?” Eli insisted on giving his silver Zippo to me to light it, but I looked away. I just held the tip ofthe cigarette to the flame ofthe... Show more“I had to work before coming, but what’s the point, really? This is how I always look. Like a clown. Did you not see my car? Where would I put a pack of cigarettes?” Eli insisted on giving his silver Zippo to me to light it, but I looked away. I just held the tip ofthe cigarette to the flame ofthe candle on the table. "I saw that. I swear I had written about some sad scene like that before. I didn't think that an actual clown car was part ofthe job. I can’t believe you can drive that on the road! At least it’s red, though." Eli looked over at Mark. “It looks like you wore your costume here, too, Mark. Is there a dock in the back for your boat?” Eli snickered and playfully tapped my arm with the back ofhis hand. ljust sat hunched over a bit in the hard wooden chair fixated on the red glass candleholder on the table “That's Captain to you, prick. Don't ever compare a soldier‘s uniform to that poofy, goofy nonsense." Eli chuckled a bit. “What‘s so funny?“ Mark asked. Eli chuckled a bit more while trying to cover his mouth with his hand.“Your eyebrows inched slowly closer like awkward lovers.“ For a second, the awkward lover eyebrows kissed. “Alright, enough bullshit,” Mark pounded a list on the table, “what do you guys want to drink? We're celebrating, right?" I looked up, pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and exhaled deeply. “I don’t want anything. I don‘t need anything,“ I wasn‘t sure he heard me, but it didn‘t matter. Mark always needed to prove that he was the alpha of any. I looked back down. The flame ofthe candlewick began to flicker as it lowered into the ring of melted wax puddled around it. I wondered how long the flame would last until the wick wasn’t long enough to burn. “Alright, well I guess it will be three rum and Cokes. On the Captain!\\'rite that down in your little notebook.“ I looked up when Mark turned around and whistled sharply. “Bartender! Threeeu He stopped. There was a woman in a red dress sitting at the bar looking toward him. “Four rum and Cokesl Hey, beautiful," he began pointing at the woman rather obviously,“bring them over here!" The woman turned to hold upjust three fin- gers towards the bartender. I waved my hand at the bartender and held up only two fingers, but he was wiping glasses. The woman, sitting on a stool in between the tab pulls behind the oak counter and the stacked, plastic boxes ofpull tabs in the corner. stared back for a second towards our table. She took the last sip from her two short. skinny straws, and began walking through the maze oftables to ours. When she walked over, she stood across the table looking at Mark, but her body was turned toward me. She was silent. I looked at the chair on the other side of me and considered sneaking over to the empty spot, but I didn’t want her to notice if I moved. “So, how many drinks will it take to get you to come home with a captain?“ Mark said as if he were being sly. I covered half of my face with my right hand, accidentally smearing the black, diamond patterned makeup around my right eye. I halfstood up to wash my makeup offin the bath- room,but instead ljust readjusted in my chair a bit. “Sorry, excuse my friend." Eli looked up but immediately looked back at Mark once he saw that the woman stood stoic. I heard Eli gulp and saw his right eyebrow raise a little. “He’s actually just a commander." Another woman sitting at the table next to 139 Show less
THE CONTEST Mary Cornelius \Vhen it was publicly announced on the BBC last fall that Prince Harry, instead ofmarrying a commoner after a long period of courtship like his brother \Villiam, would be holding a live-broadcast, isle-wide, year-long contest to procure his future bride, we gasped. Some... Show moreTHE CONTEST Mary Cornelius \Vhen it was publicly announced on the BBC last fall that Prince Harry, instead ofmarrying a commoner after a long period of courtship like his brother \Villiam, would be holding a live-broadcast, isle-wide, year-long contest to procure his future bride, we gasped. Some ofus, in fact, watching the news from our dorm rooms with our friends and our friends’ cats, had trouble breathing for several minutes. Others, perched over stemless wine glasses alone in cold kitchens, regained airflow almost instantly, per necessity, and began dialing phone numbers and writing notes on small pads of paper with a renewed sense of spirit. \Ve were going to be princesses. The contest would contain the most popular elements ofthe reality shows that came before, we were told; after moving to an undisclosed castle lo- cation inJanuary, contestants would be made-over by professionals from across the globe and then, once prepared, would partake in a daunting set of 50 tasks scored both by various celebrity judges and the home-viewing audience via Internet polls. By midsummer, the narrowed pool would launch into Phase 2, which came to be known later (informally, ofcourse) as “The Prachelor"; here, Harry would finally meet us himselfand, through a mixture ofdates,challenges, and sways of public opinion, would Whittle us down further to groups named conspicuously after American sports brackets—the round of32, sweet 16, elite 8, final 4.The grand reveal ofthe final one would take place at a Christ- mas masquerade ball, and sitting there, even then, in our friends' dorm rooms and in our cold kitch- ens, we could feel the cool release on our skin ofthe mask giving way. Then, the warm blush offinally being seen. There were consolations mentioned for those ofus who didn‘t win: letters of recommendation, professional networking connections, public expo- sure (whether they meant to potential employers Show less
began wiggling herselffree from her prison. Before he got too close, I grabbed the letter opener off of his desk and held it out in front of me for protec- tion. “That’s not a toy, Sam.” 1 ducked as he re- duced the door above my head to a pile of splin- ters. l squinted and saw my mother free... Show morebegan wiggling herselffree from her prison. Before he got too close, I grabbed the letter opener off of his desk and held it out in front of me for protec- tion. “That’s not a toy, Sam.” 1 ducked as he re- duced the door above my head to a pile of splin- ters. l squinted and saw my mother free from the chair and moving to the corner towards the fire extinguisher. My father followed my gaze, and then I had my chance. The first hit was a knee to the stomach. The second was a right cross to the jaw. As he started to fall backwards to the ground I caught him by the throat. Never do I remember seeing my father afraid. Even in this moment. The look in his eyes was one of defeat. l stabbed him once in the chest with the letter opener and blood burped out of his surprised face. I stabbed him a second time and watched as the life left his eyes, pushing the blade deeper until there was nothing left. Once I was satisfied I dropped his mangled body to the ground. 105 Show less
Making memories question their existence making memories question their bones making bones remember I am taste I am asphyxiation of the ashes screaming in the car so the neighbors won’t hear Impact upon impact like a buffer of knives left to starve Wave wave flows in flows out falling to the ground... Show moreMaking memories question their existence making memories question their bones making bones remember I am taste I am asphyxiation of the ashes screaming in the car so the neighbors won’t hear Impact upon impact like a buffer of knives left to starve Wave wave flows in flows out falling to the ground with the ambition of a Wednesday night pickup line 91 Show less
THE SOUNDS WE MAKE Elizabeth Fernandez Let the comforting sounds of our cacophony n'ng throughout the malformed walls possessing our essence, echoing our disharmonious cries of reluctance as we purge our inner selves from all that we’ve wished for, from all that we’ve dreamed for, all that we’ve... Show moreTHE SOUNDS WE MAKE Elizabeth Fernandez Let the comforting sounds of our cacophony n'ng throughout the malformed walls possessing our essence, echoing our disharmonious cries of reluctance as we purge our inner selves from all that we’ve wished for, from all that we’ve dreamed for, all that we’ve hoped. Endlm concrete towers surround us m'th outstretched arms, their bodies concealing the deep and vibrant blue skies overhead, molding them to be unattainable. Reverberating heanbeats deceive our desire to keep them still, exposing our subatomic yeaming to remain living. I am still (axle III: color grg’. lt lingers in my mouth, sweltering my tongue avoiding the taste of a metallic liquid slithering down my lip. Our metropolis is broken and abandoned. I no longer remember my age, it never mattered here. . . Revolutionary catalyst for an upheaval of uprising, this disruption within us shall be your destruction, Anarchy be our salvation, pandemonium our savior. Let us live, with your terror in resonance. 145 Show less
“Hold on, now. You said it was one of my trucks?” “\Vell,” it sounded like Vernon had licked his lips, “that too, but your oldest boy was the one drivin’ it.” “Clint? Ain’t no way. Boy was in bed before I got home.” “Ain’t your oldest Richie?" There was a brief silence. “Right—Richie. Shit.” “... Show more“Hold on, now. You said it was one of my trucks?” “\Vell,” it sounded like Vernon had licked his lips, “that too, but your oldest boy was the one drivin’ it.” “Clint? Ain’t no way. Boy was in bed before I got home.” “Ain’t your oldest Richie?" There was a brief silence. “Right—Richie. Shit.” “\Vell anyway, he was nice enough and all once I pulled him over, but he was too drunk to be drivin’. I had to take him in and now he’s sittin’ over in the shack. I gave him a coat and some gloves since it’s so damn cold out, but I figured I better call ya to see what ya wanted to do bout it." Don took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Yep, I‘ll be over there in a couple minutes. Don‘t bother meeting me there. I’ll handle it. Thanks Vernon.” He hung up the phone and tried sneaking back into the bedroom to put on his Carharts and his heavy blue coat, but when he stepped through the door Mabel was sitting up in her white night- gown while her eyes remained mostly closed. “Donald Gard,” Mabel rubbed her eyes a bit. She was sleepy but stern, “who was that on the phone?" “Oh, it wasjust Vernon. Says he wants me to go over there quick. Some drunk bastard started poppin’ rounds oflin front ofthe bar on Main Street." “I didn’t hear no gun shot.” She lay back down on the bed and turned her back to him, pulling the white comforter over and wrapping herselfin it. “You were asleep." Don quickly zipped up his coat. 94 “I was only half-asleep. I woke up when you got back from the movie. I thought you said you went with Vernon anyway." Don stayed focused. “He went on patrol once we got back from Graettinger, but anyway he needs me at the station to take care of it I guess.“ He walked over to the other side of the bed to kiss his wife on the cheek before he lefi, but when he leaned she turned again so that the pillows covered her face. He stood there for a second but decided to say nothing. He turned ofl'the small lamp on the nightstand and left. When Don stepped inside of the small iron- barred, outdoor shack that served as the town jail cell, it reeked ofcold sweat and stale vomit. Don cringed when the scent blended with the manure smell permeating from the neighboring farms. It was a small cell, but they hardly had to use it any- way. He stepped through the door and turned to his son, Richie, who made no attempt to look at his father. He had been sitting in the jail for nearly an hour but remained fixated on a small, black feather that the wind had blown through the door. At first. neither one ofthem spoke. Don looked down at his badge and released another heavy sigh, creating a cloud ofvapor from the cold weather. Don finally broke the silence. “I can't believe you would do somethin' so stupid,” he said. "Drinkin’ and drivin’. Are you kiddin’ me?” Richie said nothing. Don stood there in the small outdoor cell with his hands on his hips. “Well say somethin’. lfyou think I don't deserve an explanation for bein‘ woken up after midnight be- cause my good for nothin’ kid got picked up drivin' my truck drunker than a skunk, thenfi.” Richie’s heavy boot heels began to bounce on Show less
ESCAPE FROM HELL! Ryan Nichols On the drive home, they listened only to the dull growl of the dirty van’s engine and the oscillating hum ofits balding tires against the aging country highway. The two sounds converged in a sort of hollow, lonely question that none ofthe four pas— sengers knew how... Show moreESCAPE FROM HELL! Ryan Nichols On the drive home, they listened only to the dull growl of the dirty van’s engine and the oscillating hum ofits balding tires against the aging country highway. The two sounds converged in a sort of hollow, lonely question that none ofthe four pas— sengers knew how to begin answering. They hadn’t been prepared for a shared experience of melan- choly. Individually, they might have been able to feign levity or force through ajoke to distract them- selves, but as a group they had yet to come up with a strategy for such situations. So, they rode without speaking while the van droned on. \Vhen they pulled off the highway, the relative quiet ofthe sleeping city streets was unbearable. It begged them to disrupt the night in their usual manner, with some screeching thrash metal on the van’s stereo harmonized with unholy howls oftheir own. But, they remained somber as they trudged into the dirty one-story house they shared. Usu- ally they were oblivious to the piles ofcrumpled 16 fast food containers and layers ofspilled beer that covered every surface, but tonight, in the glare of self-reflection, they suddenly had a physical sense of how repulsive the place was. Still, they were too low to make any efforts. It wasn‘t until they had each settled into their places on the stained couch and plaid recliners around the television and had taken a swig or two ofcheap beer that Rex finally overcame the silence. “Man, that was some heavy shit." Earlier that night, the members of Death's Bludgeon, the premiere (and only) thrash met- al band of Rogersville, Wisconsin, had driven seventy-five miles into the featureless expanse of farm country to attend “Escape from Hell!," the newest haunted house in the region's already boom- ing seasonal attraction circuit. Had they paid closer attention to the overdressed man outside the strip mall who had given them the flyer advertising the event or even to the flyer itself, they would have Show less
CHAPTER 3: THE PLOT THICKENS Melony Q. Kunderstein She walked into my oflice, a smokin‘ damsel with a face that could melt at cheesecake. Her ruby red dress was shining brighter than the future ofmany freckle faced kindergartners, the kind of freckles that can bring an entire empire to its knees.... Show moreCHAPTER 3: THE PLOT THICKENS Melony Q. Kunderstein She walked into my oflice, a smokin‘ damsel with a face that could melt at cheesecake. Her ruby red dress was shining brighter than the future ofmany freckle faced kindergartners, the kind of freckles that can bring an entire empire to its knees. This gal walked right up to me, looked me in the eyes, licked her lips, blinked 6 times, and opened up her mouth as ifshe was going to say something, like she was going to speak the entirety ofeverything that is her life and all her aspirations. “Sup, Detective.” She said to me in a voice that sounded much more like a Biggie Smalls and much less like a Betty White, throw in a little oer. T's voice and boy howdy! Do you have me hooked! I responded to her with the suaveness of an Emperor Penguin attract- ing a mate, “Cut to the chase!" l bellowed like Billy Goat Grulf. “l need a detective to send a message.“ She sprayed those words out like a garden hose or a Crazy Daisy water play set ofsorts. By George she was burly, she was like a combination of an orangutan and a 100 year old oak tree, the perfect woman for a guy like me. I never thought I’d find myselfin a situation where I‘d see a woman’s face again, ever since my wife was viciously attacked by a gang ofbiker grannies, I lost her in a whirl of motorcycles, handbags, and false teeth. It all happened so slow! After a long blank stare from both parties I tried to respond to her statement, but gasp! \Vho would burst into my office, but my trusty sidekickJojo, a monkey in a leotard. He rode into the room on a circus ball, honking a bike horn, while eating a bundle bananas. I remember it as quite a feat. Andjust as quickly as he came into our lives he left without a trace. I sometimes think, while looking up at Orion’s Belt (the constellation, not the clothing), if somehow, somewhere, some- why he's looking at the same constellation (or the aforementioned clothing material) I cry sometimes just at the mere thought ofthe saucy simian looking in generally the same direction as I. l immediate- 109 Show less
\sweat drizzling down like chocolate syrup on an ice cream cone, it was working. “N—not many. . .uh... inurvive these settings. Excuse me” He trotted to the one window, lifting it up while quivering. “Is it hot in here? Orjust me? Ah, well-“ the being sat ‘down across from the female, avoiding... Show more\sweat drizzling down like chocolate syrup on an ice cream cone, it was working. “N—not many. . .uh... inurvive these settings. Excuse me” He trotted to the one window, lifting it up while quivering. “Is it hot in here? Orjust me? Ah, well-“ the being sat ‘down across from the female, avoiding eye contact ‘and growing in discomfort. “You seem like a smart ‘. girl,” he coughed, lurching inevitable germs into the air, “according to your chart ofcourse.” He coughed again,the color in his face began to drain 'he squirmed clearly uncomfortable with her pres- -cnce witnessing his weakness. “I suppose that’s all *for the day.” The silence began to engulf him as he stands to hover about his cherry-wood desk. As the Ifcmale rose with a faint smile, he began to shake in uncontrollablejolts. Finally, it was time. Her smirk itched at her lips, almost forcing her to lose her composure. She drew her arms near her frame, crossing them as her golden hues flickered with mere amusement. God, he had talked so much.For weeks she had listened to him whimper and whine about her opening up and letting him in.Explain- ing how such a fragile young girl couldn’t survive the simplistic floor plan and idiot patients that occupied the space between. For weeks she had i counted the minutes, counted the days, until the 1 time was right. Right for her to silence him. Her soft melody escaped her lips, with a soft hushed breathe she uttered, “Good bye.” \Vith that his discomfort grew, his body withered in spasms as he dropped to the floor. The coughing grew louder while he began to gasp for air, despite all ofthis he reached for his round trimmed glasses, with one last breath he came to a halt. Everything he left lhen became her possession, the chart, the admis- sion recommendations, anything that whispered the name Ember Rose in the silence. The flowing breeze in the window called to her, shejumped. 47 Show less
ANXIETY. Elise Hitchings . . . 135 FACES (5), Kathetine Gripne . . . 136 NEW YORK, Malena Larsen . . . 137 A JOKE, Michael Torreson . . . 138 THE DARK KNIGHT, Clayton Rud . . . 142 CLlFFS OF MOHER. Danny Polaschek . . . 143 THE GIFT HORSE, Bryce Kadrlik . . .144 THE SOUNDS WE MAKE, Elizabeth... Show moreANXIETY. Elise Hitchings . . . 135 FACES (5), Kathetine Gripne . . . 136 NEW YORK, Malena Larsen . . . 137 A JOKE, Michael Torreson . . . 138 THE DARK KNIGHT, Clayton Rud . . . 142 CLlFFS OF MOHER. Danny Polaschek . . . 143 THE GIFT HORSE, Bryce Kadrlik . . .144 THE SOUNDS WE MAKE, Elizabeth Fernandez . . . 145 AFFER LIFE. Sarah Mueller . . . 146 ACCEPTANCE, Hannah Schmit . . . I49 HERE TO STAY, Jazmin Crittenden . . . 150 Front cover image: The Augsburgian, 1957 Back cover image: The Augsburgian, 1971 Show less
.after that. He was too busy pleading for forgiveness and home. Suddenly, he was surrounded by a half dozen other cats in an unwelcoming, sterile room. 'Fear and instinct lcapt inside him when a curious black cat inched its nose toward him. Angus slashed and hissed. A chain reaction of scratching... Show more.after that. He was too busy pleading for forgiveness and home. Suddenly, he was surrounded by a half dozen other cats in an unwelcoming, sterile room. 'Fear and instinct lcapt inside him when a curious black cat inched its nose toward him. Angus slashed and hissed. A chain reaction of scratching, bit- ing, and wailing ignited the room. A man rushed through the door and grabbed Angus, taking him completely by surprise. The next few days he endured a lonely steel cage. He clawed and hissed at the clumsy hands of .grubby children and the eager fingers of equally .grubby hipsters who inevitably adopted one of the more docile cats. He barely ate. He pleaded and moaned whenever the workers made their rounds. At night, he would think about the cold bathroom 'floor of Allison‘s House and how much warmer it seemed than the loneliness he now felt. When he overheard a worker say Allison’s name on the phone, Angus pressed his ear through a gap in the cage door and tried to hear over the sound of his quickening pulse. “Allison? Hi, this isjenny from the shelter. I’m calling about Angus. No, he hasn‘t been adopted. That's why I‘m calling, actually It’s been almost a week and he still hasn’t acclimated. He’s not eating and he attacks anyone that comes near him. I un- derstand, but we’re already way over capacity and I'm afraid we can't keep him here any longer. \Vell, if you can’t find someone we‘ll have to put him down. I‘m sorry. Ok. I‘ll be here until 7. Ok. I‘ll see you then." An hour later, Allison was ushered through the “Employees Only" door and led to Angus's cage. He was waiting for her and pawing at the bars. It was no struggle to get him into the carrier this time. He was mostly quiet during the drive home; he simply matched the purringof the engine with his own. He first sensed something was wrong when Allison set the carrier down in the alley behind her house and opened the door. His intuition was con- firmed when he saw the tears in her eyes. He offered a meek plea and she picked him up and held him. “I know I promised that someone nice would adopt you, buddy, but maybe you don’teven want that. I’m sorry that things ended up this way, but I still love you. I promise that you’ll be alright.” He followed her toward the yard, but she closed the fence before he could get in. He clawed at the gate and cried out to her for a few hours before the familiar pain of hunger filled his stomach. He walked down the alley a few paces and began detecting the scent of something edible. He followed the smell and found a small, plywood structure built against the back of the garage. Inside was a rolled up blanket, a bowl of water, and some dry cat food. Before he went in, he looked back at the house. Allison was watching him from the second story window. He ducked inside the shelter, curled up on the blanket, and began to eat. Yeah, he would be alright. 69 Show less
