Post by roka on Jul 14, 2009 3:15:48 GMT -5
Roka
"Seasons are changing,
And waves are crashing,
And stars are falling, just for us.
Days grow longer and nights grow shorter,
I can show you I'll be the one."
- Your Guardian Angel, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
the basics,
»»character full name:Iroka (Means ‘Charm’ in Japanese), she goes by Roka though.
»»age: 2 years and one month.
»»species: Timber wolf
»»pack: Traitors
the appearance,
»»eyes: Dark caramel brown
»»markings: She has a very eccentric and beautiful pelt pattern, full of different shades of caramel, brown, and orange. It particularly helps when hunting in autumn, when she can blend in with the falling leaves.
»»height: 2 feet (24 inches)
»»weight: 53 pounds
»»general appearance: Roka is a lithe and slender she-wolf with strong leg muscles. She is average in size, if not a bit smaller than others, and has an athletic look to her. She is a very beautiful female with a proud heritage, and has one of the most gorgeously colored pelts you’ll ever see. Not only are the various shades of autumn-themed colors appealing to the eye, but the pattern in which they are set is also very beautiful; the top coat is a soft caramel color, with a rusty orange underneath. Dark reddish-brown markings are placed on her forelegs, the top of her muzzle and leading to the back of her head, her mane and shoulders, and on the top of her tail (see pic).
the personality,
»»likes: She loves to run, its one of her most favorite things to do, next to hunting. She is also quite the litle flirter.
»»dislikes: Being continuously bothered or annoyed, cold weather; snow, rain, wind, etc. and getting sneaked up on (She can be a bit skiddish).
»»strengths: Fighting is one of Roka's many talents. Unlike most wolves, who simply use brawn to win their battles, she likes to use her mind. She watches her opponent, catching even the tiniest details with her quick eyes, and judges their strengths and weaknesses, using them against them. If she's on offense, she'll still use her wits but also work in her physical abilites as well, using her speed and flexibility to her advantage. She also has a nack for giving advice. Though she's still fairly young, Roka seems to know what do to in nearly any situation. It wouldn't be uncommon to see another wolf coming to her and asking for help, be it emotional or something as simple as planning hunting groups.
»»weaknesses: Because she is pretty good at fighting, Roka thinks she can take down any enemy in the world. But, because she is still fairly young, she has alot to learn about being on the battlefield. Usually, if she's faced with a challenge that too big for her, she'll take it head on and most likely get beaten. After that she'll lie low for a week or two, sulking or moping about her lose. But pretty soon she'll be back to her hot-headed and dare-devil self. She's also a very poor hunter, she just doesn't seem to have the nack for it, which is why she probably would have starved to death on her way here if it hadn't been for her brother and his amazing hunting talents.
»»secrets: Roka, being the talkative type, doesn't hold many secrets. But there is one that she wont tell anyone. Ever. She always tells people that she was an only pup, that she didn't have any siblings, but thats a lie. The truth is, she has a brother, Sabaku. But he left her to join the Canitao pack, choosing to live with his own species instead of help the creatures that lived with the those vile humans.
the history,
»»mother: Yuma (deceased)
»»father: Akou (Desceased)
»»siblings: Sabaku (Brother (I may make him later on, may not))
»»others: -none-
»»background: Roka’s mother, a pretty sand colored she-wolf with orange markings, was the only daughter born to a proud Alphess who ruled over a particularly large pack high up in the mountains, a good few week’s travel from the plains where the Packs live now. As was tradition, she was named the Alpha’s heir and was treated as royalty among the other pack members, a princess of sorts. She was given everything she needed and always treated with respect and love, never being scolded or treated harshly. She soon grew into a beautiful young wolf, an ideal mate for any of the male bachelors her father had lined up for her choosing. But she denied every one of them, looking upon them without interest, much to the displeasure of her parents. Luckily, a new suitor was brought forward and a glimmer of curiosity sparkled in the eyes of the princess. His name was Akou and he was by far the most handsome of the males presented to her. His pelt was a dark caramel, lanced through with stripes of brown and gold, and his eyes! His eyes were the most beautiful honey-gold color she had ever seen. They were soon declared mates and the two fell madly in love. It didn’t surprise anyone when the sounds of two new pups romping in the nursery echoed through the hills.
Roka, like her mother, was spoiled from birth. She was the new princess, just as stunningly beautiful as the last, and she was given everything she ever needed or wanted. The pack members couldn’t help adore the she-pup, claiming she had a certain charm about her, which earned her the name Iroka. She and her brother, Sabaku (everyone called him Baku), grew up to be the next leaders of the pack, more Alpha’s in training. Everything was perfect, Roka couldn’t think of any other way to live. She had a family, friends, and a place to call her own. That is, until they came.
Roka remembers well that day Man came to her forest, riding in on what her mother called horses and caring metal sticks that howled like thunder and spouted death. She and Baku, both of them two years old at the time, had been playing in a meadow a little ways off from the dens site, unaware of the adversity that was about to ensue. The two had been in the middle of a play-fight, with Roka winning, when the first blast rang through the forest. Both of them had jumped up with surprised yelps, shivers of terror running down their spines as they recognized their mothers agonized howl rip through the trees, only to be cut short by another loud shot. Panic running like blood through her veins, Roka and her brother dashed for the nearest emergency den, one of maybe ten holes in which they had been taught to hide in if anything disastrous should happen, and burrowed deep inside it, huddled together, as more shots rang through the forest, one after another, Bang! Bang! Bang!, followed by more mournful howls that were quickly cut off. Bang!
Finally, after five petrifying minutes of endless gunshots, silence enveloped the hills once more. Still shaky and unsure of what to do, Roka followed Baku as he led her out of the den and started to walk cautiously toward the Den Site, both their eyes wide with fear as they bushed through the last bushes and into the small clearing that they called home. What they found their still haunts Roka’s every sleeping moment, always starring as the scene in her almost routine nightmares. Her home, the one place she believed danger and cruelty had no quarrel with, was stained. Stained with the blood of those she had called family, their bodies sprawled across the clearing in unsystematic heaps, as if they had been trying to escape. Horror dominated her facial features as her terrified brown eyes scanned over her pack, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, until they fell upon a small heap, only two wolves, at the edge of the clearing. A sandy colored female with orange markings, and a dark caramel male with brown and gold stripes lanced through his fur; her mother and father.
A wail of sorrow preparing to burst from her muzzle, Roka had began to run forward, only to be stopped as teeth closed around the nape of her neck and build her hurriedly into the bushes. She turned to ask her brother heatedly why he had stopped her but was soon silence as his forepaw covered her muzzle and he nodded out toward the clearing. Roka looked and, with a jolt of panic, saw why her brother had pulled her back; There, leaning over the dead bodies of her mother and father, were three large men, the silver Death Sticks in their hands as they examined the two deceased wolves. To her horror and disgust, the men picked them up, tied them onto their steeds, and rode away.
With murder in her usually kind eyes, Roka suggested racing after the men and stealing back her parents, alive or not. But again Baku told her no. He said that it was too dangerous and that they would end up like the rest of the pack if they stayed here any longer. So, clinging to him as the only thing she had left in the world, Roka followed her brother as he led them out of the mountains, out of their territory, and into the unknown.
For three long weeks they traveled together. Baku, being the hunter of the two, was in charge of finding and catching enough food to keep them both alive. Roka, being the fighter, was in charge of protecting them from any threat they couldn’t run from. It was tough work for the two, considering the pampered and easy life they had led back at home, but they kept at it and, soon enough, they were experts at what they did; Baku became an excellent hunter, catching his prey 8 out of the 10 times he went hunting, and Roka became a brilliant fighter, able to chase off even the fiercest predators (Though, all they really encountered were a few coyotes and bobcats, but she still likes to think herself a worthy opponent to anything she meets).
But they were tired, and lonely, and needed some place to settle down, a permanent residence with a protection of a pack. As if to answer their silent prays, their weary paws lead them to the great plains that were home to the packs. Curious, the two scoped the packs out, hiding along borders for a week and seeing if they were friends and foes. They seemed to be at a disagreement, the two species that had been together drifting apart, but why? The answer was simple; Human pets.
Pitiful, scrawny, and smaller than their wild cousins, the once-human toys wanted to join with the packs. Like others, Roka took pity on them and wanted to help. But her brother saw them as nothing but more killers, friends of the ones who had killed their parents. He was convinced that if they went with the ones that were helping them, the dogs and cats would turn on them and kill them when they least expected it. But Roka knew better; they only wanted help and a place to call home, like her. The two siblings argued that night, fighting over which pack they would join. The argument turned into a brawl.
Roka, being the better fighter, won, but she was wounded. Not wanting to hurt her beloved brother she had chosen to fight poorly, and paid the price for it, though she had given him some wounds to think about as well. Still angry with each other, they split up. Roka left to find the Traitors and Sabaku left to find the Canitao.
the player,
»»name: Chelsea (Roka)
»»age: 13
»»contact: Pm or on the Cbox
»»rp sample: Eheh... sorry its so long ^^" This is a short little story I did a few weeks ago that I used it as a thread starter for another site. Its titled 'With Rain Comes Rainbows'.
Password: Accepted
How did you find us?: And ad on Proboards Support caught my eye.
"Seasons are changing,
And waves are crashing,
And stars are falling, just for us.
Days grow longer and nights grow shorter,
I can show you I'll be the one."
- Your Guardian Angel, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
the basics,
»»character full name:Iroka (Means ‘Charm’ in Japanese), she goes by Roka though.
»»age: 2 years and one month.
»»species: Timber wolf
»»pack: Traitors
the appearance,
»»eyes: Dark caramel brown
»»markings: She has a very eccentric and beautiful pelt pattern, full of different shades of caramel, brown, and orange. It particularly helps when hunting in autumn, when she can blend in with the falling leaves.
»»height: 2 feet (24 inches)
»»weight: 53 pounds
»»general appearance: Roka is a lithe and slender she-wolf with strong leg muscles. She is average in size, if not a bit smaller than others, and has an athletic look to her. She is a very beautiful female with a proud heritage, and has one of the most gorgeously colored pelts you’ll ever see. Not only are the various shades of autumn-themed colors appealing to the eye, but the pattern in which they are set is also very beautiful; the top coat is a soft caramel color, with a rusty orange underneath. Dark reddish-brown markings are placed on her forelegs, the top of her muzzle and leading to the back of her head, her mane and shoulders, and on the top of her tail (see pic).
the personality,
»»likes: She loves to run, its one of her most favorite things to do, next to hunting. She is also quite the litle flirter.
»»dislikes: Being continuously bothered or annoyed, cold weather; snow, rain, wind, etc. and getting sneaked up on (She can be a bit skiddish).
»»strengths: Fighting is one of Roka's many talents. Unlike most wolves, who simply use brawn to win their battles, she likes to use her mind. She watches her opponent, catching even the tiniest details with her quick eyes, and judges their strengths and weaknesses, using them against them. If she's on offense, she'll still use her wits but also work in her physical abilites as well, using her speed and flexibility to her advantage. She also has a nack for giving advice. Though she's still fairly young, Roka seems to know what do to in nearly any situation. It wouldn't be uncommon to see another wolf coming to her and asking for help, be it emotional or something as simple as planning hunting groups.
»»weaknesses: Because she is pretty good at fighting, Roka thinks she can take down any enemy in the world. But, because she is still fairly young, she has alot to learn about being on the battlefield. Usually, if she's faced with a challenge that too big for her, she'll take it head on and most likely get beaten. After that she'll lie low for a week or two, sulking or moping about her lose. But pretty soon she'll be back to her hot-headed and dare-devil self. She's also a very poor hunter, she just doesn't seem to have the nack for it, which is why she probably would have starved to death on her way here if it hadn't been for her brother and his amazing hunting talents.
»»secrets: Roka, being the talkative type, doesn't hold many secrets. But there is one that she wont tell anyone. Ever. She always tells people that she was an only pup, that she didn't have any siblings, but thats a lie. The truth is, she has a brother, Sabaku. But he left her to join the Canitao pack, choosing to live with his own species instead of help the creatures that lived with the those vile humans.
the history,
»»mother: Yuma (deceased)
»»father: Akou (Desceased)
»»siblings: Sabaku (Brother (I may make him later on, may not))
»»others: -none-
»»background: Roka’s mother, a pretty sand colored she-wolf with orange markings, was the only daughter born to a proud Alphess who ruled over a particularly large pack high up in the mountains, a good few week’s travel from the plains where the Packs live now. As was tradition, she was named the Alpha’s heir and was treated as royalty among the other pack members, a princess of sorts. She was given everything she needed and always treated with respect and love, never being scolded or treated harshly. She soon grew into a beautiful young wolf, an ideal mate for any of the male bachelors her father had lined up for her choosing. But she denied every one of them, looking upon them without interest, much to the displeasure of her parents. Luckily, a new suitor was brought forward and a glimmer of curiosity sparkled in the eyes of the princess. His name was Akou and he was by far the most handsome of the males presented to her. His pelt was a dark caramel, lanced through with stripes of brown and gold, and his eyes! His eyes were the most beautiful honey-gold color she had ever seen. They were soon declared mates and the two fell madly in love. It didn’t surprise anyone when the sounds of two new pups romping in the nursery echoed through the hills.
Roka, like her mother, was spoiled from birth. She was the new princess, just as stunningly beautiful as the last, and she was given everything she ever needed or wanted. The pack members couldn’t help adore the she-pup, claiming she had a certain charm about her, which earned her the name Iroka. She and her brother, Sabaku (everyone called him Baku), grew up to be the next leaders of the pack, more Alpha’s in training. Everything was perfect, Roka couldn’t think of any other way to live. She had a family, friends, and a place to call her own. That is, until they came.
Roka remembers well that day Man came to her forest, riding in on what her mother called horses and caring metal sticks that howled like thunder and spouted death. She and Baku, both of them two years old at the time, had been playing in a meadow a little ways off from the dens site, unaware of the adversity that was about to ensue. The two had been in the middle of a play-fight, with Roka winning, when the first blast rang through the forest. Both of them had jumped up with surprised yelps, shivers of terror running down their spines as they recognized their mothers agonized howl rip through the trees, only to be cut short by another loud shot. Panic running like blood through her veins, Roka and her brother dashed for the nearest emergency den, one of maybe ten holes in which they had been taught to hide in if anything disastrous should happen, and burrowed deep inside it, huddled together, as more shots rang through the forest, one after another, Bang! Bang! Bang!, followed by more mournful howls that were quickly cut off. Bang!
Finally, after five petrifying minutes of endless gunshots, silence enveloped the hills once more. Still shaky and unsure of what to do, Roka followed Baku as he led her out of the den and started to walk cautiously toward the Den Site, both their eyes wide with fear as they bushed through the last bushes and into the small clearing that they called home. What they found their still haunts Roka’s every sleeping moment, always starring as the scene in her almost routine nightmares. Her home, the one place she believed danger and cruelty had no quarrel with, was stained. Stained with the blood of those she had called family, their bodies sprawled across the clearing in unsystematic heaps, as if they had been trying to escape. Horror dominated her facial features as her terrified brown eyes scanned over her pack, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, until they fell upon a small heap, only two wolves, at the edge of the clearing. A sandy colored female with orange markings, and a dark caramel male with brown and gold stripes lanced through his fur; her mother and father.
A wail of sorrow preparing to burst from her muzzle, Roka had began to run forward, only to be stopped as teeth closed around the nape of her neck and build her hurriedly into the bushes. She turned to ask her brother heatedly why he had stopped her but was soon silence as his forepaw covered her muzzle and he nodded out toward the clearing. Roka looked and, with a jolt of panic, saw why her brother had pulled her back; There, leaning over the dead bodies of her mother and father, were three large men, the silver Death Sticks in their hands as they examined the two deceased wolves. To her horror and disgust, the men picked them up, tied them onto their steeds, and rode away.
With murder in her usually kind eyes, Roka suggested racing after the men and stealing back her parents, alive or not. But again Baku told her no. He said that it was too dangerous and that they would end up like the rest of the pack if they stayed here any longer. So, clinging to him as the only thing she had left in the world, Roka followed her brother as he led them out of the mountains, out of their territory, and into the unknown.
For three long weeks they traveled together. Baku, being the hunter of the two, was in charge of finding and catching enough food to keep them both alive. Roka, being the fighter, was in charge of protecting them from any threat they couldn’t run from. It was tough work for the two, considering the pampered and easy life they had led back at home, but they kept at it and, soon enough, they were experts at what they did; Baku became an excellent hunter, catching his prey 8 out of the 10 times he went hunting, and Roka became a brilliant fighter, able to chase off even the fiercest predators (Though, all they really encountered were a few coyotes and bobcats, but she still likes to think herself a worthy opponent to anything she meets).
But they were tired, and lonely, and needed some place to settle down, a permanent residence with a protection of a pack. As if to answer their silent prays, their weary paws lead them to the great plains that were home to the packs. Curious, the two scoped the packs out, hiding along borders for a week and seeing if they were friends and foes. They seemed to be at a disagreement, the two species that had been together drifting apart, but why? The answer was simple; Human pets.
Pitiful, scrawny, and smaller than their wild cousins, the once-human toys wanted to join with the packs. Like others, Roka took pity on them and wanted to help. But her brother saw them as nothing but more killers, friends of the ones who had killed their parents. He was convinced that if they went with the ones that were helping them, the dogs and cats would turn on them and kill them when they least expected it. But Roka knew better; they only wanted help and a place to call home, like her. The two siblings argued that night, fighting over which pack they would join. The argument turned into a brawl.
Roka, being the better fighter, won, but she was wounded. Not wanting to hurt her beloved brother she had chosen to fight poorly, and paid the price for it, though she had given him some wounds to think about as well. Still angry with each other, they split up. Roka left to find the Traitors and Sabaku left to find the Canitao.
the player,
»»name: Chelsea (Roka)
»»age: 13
»»contact: Pm or on the Cbox
»»rp sample:
All was quiet in the empty metal halls of the dust-filled train, nothing but the quiet whispers of a small breeze echoing through the long-abandoned corridors and into the vacant cabins. Though, not all of them were vacant. One, located toward the front of the train and with the least windows broken, was occupied by a single person. Well, not a person really, a young puppy, almost too young to be on his. But that’s what he was; on his own. At the moment, the poor little guy was curled up on a comfortable looking, very nicely padded seat, his fluffy black ears flopped backwards onto his head and his chocolate brown eyes hidden behind their lids as he slept, seeming to be caught in a dream. Trapped in one of his ever-terrifying nightmares…
Cold. It was raining outside. The thunderous rhythm of millions of raindrops pounded on the roof with menacing force. Sammy whined. Jessica coughed. At once, the young pups head snapped toward his master, his chocolate brown eyes boring into her pale face with worry. Another whine escaped through his lips.
“Sammy…” The young girl coughed, and imediantly he went to her, running his fuzzy little head into her extended palm. A faint smile curled Jessica’s lips. “Its okay boy, i’m-” another cough “Fine. It’s just a little cold. I’ll be better soon, and then we can play again.” The girl’s pale blue eyes flickered to the window beside her bed, out into the rain. “My mother always told me, when I was little, that when it rained it was God crying. I asked her why God would be crying, but she didn’t know. I think I know now Sammy.” Sammy looked up into the girls face, his expression questioning. He didn’t know what she was babbling about, but he listened all the same. That’s what a good dog did. And, right now, he needed to be a good dog. For Jessica. The girl looked down at him then, a sad expression on her face as she smiled weakly at him. “I think God cries when he has to take somebody away. Somebody that was loved very much. He cries because he knows it will make people sad to take them away, but that’s why he sends a rainbow after he cries. He hopes the bright colors will make the people happy again.” Her little speech was followed by a bout of weak coughs and a small muscle spasm. Sammy whined again and licked Jessica’s cheek. It was burning hot, as it had been for many weeks, and was accompanied by the strong smell of the girl’s sickness. He still had no clue what his master was saying, but the sad expression in her eyes put him on edge, making his wiggle and shake. Jessica turned back to the window when she was done coughing, staring out into the rain and refusing to look at Sammy. “God’s crying especially hard today Sammy. The person he’s taking must be loved very much…” She sighed silently. Her breath was getting weaker and her eyes were starting to drift shut. “Do you think… that I’m… loved very much, Sammy?” Jessica managed to gasp out. She didn’t turn to him this time, instead staying on her back as her pale blue eyes finally fluttered shut. Sammy barked quietly, wanting more than anything to tell his master how loved she was, but at the same time not wanting to disturb her if she wanted rest. But her ever dimming breath was still worrying him, and he carefully put his two front paws on the edge of her be, standing on his back ones so that he could look at her paling face. He nuzzled the girls hand onto his neck and it gently began to caress his coal-colored fur. Four words escaped the girl’s nearly white lips; “I’ll…miss… you… Sammy…” The hand fell from around Sammy’s neck and a horrible smell drifted gently into the room, even through the thick cloud of sickness. Death…
“JESSICA!”
The loud bark came from Sammy’s lips in a rush of syllables as he was thrown from his subconscious mind and into wakefulness, bolting upright. Panting, his wide dark brown eyes darted around the train cabin fearfully, his still waking mind trying to figure out where he was. Finally, he relaxed with a shaky sigh as he recognized his surroundings. He’d wandered in here last night, looking for a place to sleep and, only able to find this place, had settled down for a peaceful slumber. But, turns out fate had had different plans. A low whine rumbled through Sammy’s throat and he laid back down, laying a black paw over his muzzle as his brows furrowed in sadness. It had been a month since his master, Jessica, had died of the plague that had gripped the whole city but he couldn’t get her face out of her head. Every waking moment, her pale eyes clouded his thoughts, he dreamed their last moments together nearly every night. Again and again, that awful last hour of her life corrupted him. It was exhausting. The young pup wanted nothing more than to just forget about it. All of it. About being taken from his mother at five weeks. About being driven carefully to his new home. About being put into little Jessica’s waiting arms. About spending all those days, playing in their small yard. About spending all those nights, sleeping at the foot of her bed. About liking it. But, more than anything, he wanted to forget about their last weeks together. About how she came home from school with a cough and a high fever. About the man in a white jacket coming to see her. About her being put into bed and not being able to come out and play. About how she had gotten worse and worse with time. About that last night they shared… About how he barked and barked until her father had come… About how the man in the white jacket had come again… About how Jessica, his Jessica, had been covered in a white blanket, covering her lifeless face… About how they had taken her away in the big red and white car… About how he never got to see her again…
Sammy…
Fuzzy black ears pricked upward and Sammy’s heard snapped toward the cabins open door as he thought he heard his name being called, but softly, barely a whisper, as if the owner of it was far away. Even so, Sammy would recognize that voice anywhere. “Jessica?” he woofed quietly, uncertainty coloring his expression, along with an overwhelming hope.
Sammy…
“Jessica!” He barked, louder, convinced now that it was his lost master, come to search for him and bring him home at last. “I’m coming Jessica! I’m coming!” he howled, joy ringing in his tone as he hurled himself from his temporary bed, out of the cabin, and into the train corridor, his feet flying him through the passage way at an astonishing speed. As his paws beat the ground, at the same time barely touching it, Sammy’s thoughts whizzed through his head just as fast as he whizzed through the hallway. ‘She’s here! She’s alive! Jessica! I can’t believe it! She’s here! She’s here! She’s--!’. Like his feet, Sammy’s thoughts skidded to a sudden stop as he entered to engine room. His eyes stared shocked, and confused, as he looked around the empty space. This was where Jessica’s voice was coming from, he was sure of it, positive, but… where was she?
Sssssssssssssaaaaaaaaammyyyyy…
Ears pricked, Sammy whipped his head around. There! But… not there. What? No one was where the voice seemed to call his name. Nothing but an old and rusty train whistle, broken and hanging beside the open and probably busted window. But… he had been so sure! Jessica’s voice had called him! She was here! Just then, a small breezed ruffled Sammy’s coal black fur and into the rusty whistle. Eyes widening even more, Sammy watched as the mouth of the whistle flapped open and, to his horror, made the one sound that had put so much hope in his heart.
Sssssssssssssaaaaaaaaammyyyyy…
It took the young pup a second to figure out what had happened. But when he did, a wave of crushing sadness washed over his little heart and both his head and tail fell as a low and long whine escaped him. Jessica wasn’t here… she was still where ever than stupid van had taken her… she wasn’t alive… she wasn’t coming back for him… With another saddened whine, Sammy turned to leave. Brown eyes still on the ground below him, the young pup made his way out of the engine room, down the train hallways, and out the nearest door and onto the station platform, the sunshine warming his pelt. He wandered farther onto the platform, walking under the cement benches that lined the station wall, welcoming the cooling shade. Finally, he came to the end of the platform and plopped down on the first step of a small, four-step stairway, looking down at the dirt with miserable eyes. Suddenly, a puddle caught his attention and he turned his face upward to look at it. A quick whiff told him that it wasn’t water in the puddle, but train oil, and, though it looked very similar to water, this stuff wasn’t drinkable. But that’s not what he was distracted by. In the puddle danced millions of colors; reds, blues, pinks, oranges, yellows, greens, and every other color he could think of. They all mixed together, and yet never seemed to touch fully. It looked like a rainbow. ‘A rainbow…’ Sammy looked down at his white paws thoughtfully, his ears pricked as he thought about his dream, about what Jessica had said in it about rain, and rainbows and what she thought they meant. After a few moments, Sammy raised his head to look at the puddle again. Only this time, a small smile curved his puppy lips. “With rain,” he said, his voice soft, his tail wagging gently “Comes rainbows.”
Cold. It was raining outside. The thunderous rhythm of millions of raindrops pounded on the roof with menacing force. Sammy whined. Jessica coughed. At once, the young pups head snapped toward his master, his chocolate brown eyes boring into her pale face with worry. Another whine escaped through his lips.
“Sammy…” The young girl coughed, and imediantly he went to her, running his fuzzy little head into her extended palm. A faint smile curled Jessica’s lips. “Its okay boy, i’m-” another cough “Fine. It’s just a little cold. I’ll be better soon, and then we can play again.” The girl’s pale blue eyes flickered to the window beside her bed, out into the rain. “My mother always told me, when I was little, that when it rained it was God crying. I asked her why God would be crying, but she didn’t know. I think I know now Sammy.” Sammy looked up into the girls face, his expression questioning. He didn’t know what she was babbling about, but he listened all the same. That’s what a good dog did. And, right now, he needed to be a good dog. For Jessica. The girl looked down at him then, a sad expression on her face as she smiled weakly at him. “I think God cries when he has to take somebody away. Somebody that was loved very much. He cries because he knows it will make people sad to take them away, but that’s why he sends a rainbow after he cries. He hopes the bright colors will make the people happy again.” Her little speech was followed by a bout of weak coughs and a small muscle spasm. Sammy whined again and licked Jessica’s cheek. It was burning hot, as it had been for many weeks, and was accompanied by the strong smell of the girl’s sickness. He still had no clue what his master was saying, but the sad expression in her eyes put him on edge, making his wiggle and shake. Jessica turned back to the window when she was done coughing, staring out into the rain and refusing to look at Sammy. “God’s crying especially hard today Sammy. The person he’s taking must be loved very much…” She sighed silently. Her breath was getting weaker and her eyes were starting to drift shut. “Do you think… that I’m… loved very much, Sammy?” Jessica managed to gasp out. She didn’t turn to him this time, instead staying on her back as her pale blue eyes finally fluttered shut. Sammy barked quietly, wanting more than anything to tell his master how loved she was, but at the same time not wanting to disturb her if she wanted rest. But her ever dimming breath was still worrying him, and he carefully put his two front paws on the edge of her be, standing on his back ones so that he could look at her paling face. He nuzzled the girls hand onto his neck and it gently began to caress his coal-colored fur. Four words escaped the girl’s nearly white lips; “I’ll…miss… you… Sammy…” The hand fell from around Sammy’s neck and a horrible smell drifted gently into the room, even through the thick cloud of sickness. Death…
“JESSICA!”
The loud bark came from Sammy’s lips in a rush of syllables as he was thrown from his subconscious mind and into wakefulness, bolting upright. Panting, his wide dark brown eyes darted around the train cabin fearfully, his still waking mind trying to figure out where he was. Finally, he relaxed with a shaky sigh as he recognized his surroundings. He’d wandered in here last night, looking for a place to sleep and, only able to find this place, had settled down for a peaceful slumber. But, turns out fate had had different plans. A low whine rumbled through Sammy’s throat and he laid back down, laying a black paw over his muzzle as his brows furrowed in sadness. It had been a month since his master, Jessica, had died of the plague that had gripped the whole city but he couldn’t get her face out of her head. Every waking moment, her pale eyes clouded his thoughts, he dreamed their last moments together nearly every night. Again and again, that awful last hour of her life corrupted him. It was exhausting. The young pup wanted nothing more than to just forget about it. All of it. About being taken from his mother at five weeks. About being driven carefully to his new home. About being put into little Jessica’s waiting arms. About spending all those days, playing in their small yard. About spending all those nights, sleeping at the foot of her bed. About liking it. But, more than anything, he wanted to forget about their last weeks together. About how she came home from school with a cough and a high fever. About the man in a white jacket coming to see her. About her being put into bed and not being able to come out and play. About how she had gotten worse and worse with time. About that last night they shared… About how he barked and barked until her father had come… About how the man in the white jacket had come again… About how Jessica, his Jessica, had been covered in a white blanket, covering her lifeless face… About how they had taken her away in the big red and white car… About how he never got to see her again…
Sammy…
Fuzzy black ears pricked upward and Sammy’s heard snapped toward the cabins open door as he thought he heard his name being called, but softly, barely a whisper, as if the owner of it was far away. Even so, Sammy would recognize that voice anywhere. “Jessica?” he woofed quietly, uncertainty coloring his expression, along with an overwhelming hope.
Sammy…
“Jessica!” He barked, louder, convinced now that it was his lost master, come to search for him and bring him home at last. “I’m coming Jessica! I’m coming!” he howled, joy ringing in his tone as he hurled himself from his temporary bed, out of the cabin, and into the train corridor, his feet flying him through the passage way at an astonishing speed. As his paws beat the ground, at the same time barely touching it, Sammy’s thoughts whizzed through his head just as fast as he whizzed through the hallway. ‘She’s here! She’s alive! Jessica! I can’t believe it! She’s here! She’s here! She’s--!’. Like his feet, Sammy’s thoughts skidded to a sudden stop as he entered to engine room. His eyes stared shocked, and confused, as he looked around the empty space. This was where Jessica’s voice was coming from, he was sure of it, positive, but… where was she?
Sssssssssssssaaaaaaaaammyyyyy…
Ears pricked, Sammy whipped his head around. There! But… not there. What? No one was where the voice seemed to call his name. Nothing but an old and rusty train whistle, broken and hanging beside the open and probably busted window. But… he had been so sure! Jessica’s voice had called him! She was here! Just then, a small breezed ruffled Sammy’s coal black fur and into the rusty whistle. Eyes widening even more, Sammy watched as the mouth of the whistle flapped open and, to his horror, made the one sound that had put so much hope in his heart.
Sssssssssssssaaaaaaaaammyyyyy…
It took the young pup a second to figure out what had happened. But when he did, a wave of crushing sadness washed over his little heart and both his head and tail fell as a low and long whine escaped him. Jessica wasn’t here… she was still where ever than stupid van had taken her… she wasn’t alive… she wasn’t coming back for him… With another saddened whine, Sammy turned to leave. Brown eyes still on the ground below him, the young pup made his way out of the engine room, down the train hallways, and out the nearest door and onto the station platform, the sunshine warming his pelt. He wandered farther onto the platform, walking under the cement benches that lined the station wall, welcoming the cooling shade. Finally, he came to the end of the platform and plopped down on the first step of a small, four-step stairway, looking down at the dirt with miserable eyes. Suddenly, a puddle caught his attention and he turned his face upward to look at it. A quick whiff told him that it wasn’t water in the puddle, but train oil, and, though it looked very similar to water, this stuff wasn’t drinkable. But that’s not what he was distracted by. In the puddle danced millions of colors; reds, blues, pinks, oranges, yellows, greens, and every other color he could think of. They all mixed together, and yet never seemed to touch fully. It looked like a rainbow. ‘A rainbow…’ Sammy looked down at his white paws thoughtfully, his ears pricked as he thought about his dream, about what Jessica had said in it about rain, and rainbows and what she thought they meant. After a few moments, Sammy raised his head to look at the puddle again. Only this time, a small smile curved his puppy lips. “With rain,” he said, his voice soft, his tail wagging gently “Comes rainbows.”
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