Birthmarks(An Older Fiction Story I Wrote)

         His name was Purple. He was a dog. We called him Purple because of his color (you guessed it, purple). It was a dark purple, yet still purple. We've never seen another animal like this, especially a dog. We don't know how he got that color either, only that we discovered him that way.

 

         The weird part however wasn't the color of his fur, it was his birthmarks. He had two strange blue bones on his...uhhh...backside. They wouldn't wash off (we tried), and they didn't seem to hurt Purple. We didn't know what to make of these until a visit back home.

 

          We showed up at our hometown to visit family one summer and Purple began picking up a smell. We didn't think much of it until he wouldn't let it go. He kept following, and following, and following....until he came to a vacant spot. At once he began digging and eventually pulled up a skeleton! My cousin (both shocked and grossed out at first) suddenly noticed a collar. It ended up being a long lost pet she loved, one that died and was buried, one who she marked the grave of that had washed away.

 

          After considering it all, someone asked what breed Purple was. We didn't know, only mentioned the purple fur and odd birthmarks. Once an uncle looked over the bones he revealed his breed "Bone Retriever", a rare breed apparently.....and here we thought they were only birthmarks.

Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Roles We Play

          A place and a time, a story and those involved, and we are stepping into roles we play. From the waking of days to the evening goodbyes there's a calling that invites. Here we meet goals, fulfill responsibilities and roles, roles we play. Here we take time, to pretend and imagine, and we become something better. Men and women, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, all living out the roles we play.            At work or at play, we all make a way, to fulfill to our best the roles in new ways. At different times, in different amounts we all carry on, looking at how to best live our lives, and the roles we play in them. Always looking at how to be our best at our "craft" whatever that is, and however that looks. Parent or spouse, (perhaps even both), these are the roles we play in life; and we can always change them, for better when not done well, this is the grace given us all, something I'm looking at again as I enter th...
Read more

Making It Easier

        In an attempt to clean the blog up, add value, and make navigating it easier, I put several older posts together (below). Below is a mix of several different types of writing I've done, both new and old. Thanks for being here.         The Old Place On The Hill (Older Non-Fiction)        Sitting as one speaking stories of long ago, there remains the old place on the hill. The large old house of red brick stands steady yet worn, tired, though not enough to speak of it's long years long forgotten now. It speaks and none seem to listen....almost none. Years of lives lived there and it remains quiet, simply is, and this is it's final story.         Representing it's small "community" of dwellings, it stands to listen as they speak. I pass by and listen if they'll speak, though they never do. Only memories of old echo from their worn and tired frames, some old narrow trailer and a carport that seems to wan...
Read more

When I Feel Invisible

         When I feel invisible, I slip into it, walk through life and humanity undetected; sometimes. I revel in the lack of pressure to measure up, to be something instead of someone.            When I feel invisible, I embrace the grace, create in the quiet that is granted, and look again. Look again at what I value, what I believe, where I find my worth and identity. In the hidden there is room to grow and my soul rejoices.             When I feel invisible, forgotten, I reflect back again, speak back to myself, and remind me I'm not, I just feel that way sometimes. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!
Read more