Post by ∂яινє му ωσℓƒ ωιℓ∂ ♥ on Jun 29, 2014 15:06:38 GMT -5
"You little heathen, don't come back!"
His lungs burned, his heart shrunk, and his eyes widened in fright. His legs carried him far from the back alley of the restaurant, through the streets missing cars by just a hairs breadth, and away from the city border all together, with it's twinkling lights and false hopes. His name was Oliver; he was courageous, caring, brave. And had black fur, a naturally charcoal colored nose, and heterochromic eyes that featured one brown and the other blue.
Why was a kitten hanging around the back of a closed restaurant? Well it should be obvious - because he was hungry. His mother passed away only a few weeks ago, and he was fortunate enough to be taken in by a loving child and her mother. But when they realized just how monstrous he really was - tearing the drapes, pulling apart toys, and turning into a human boy - they soon rid him from their lives, calling after his retreating feature such horrific terms such as 'demon', 'monster' and 'hideous beast'.
Oliver, in fact, was not a hideous beast, but he wasn't aware of that fact. The scrawny, pale boy with thick black hair and unique eyes had never once seen his reflection when he was apart from his animal form - and by their words, he never wanted to. By the disgust on their faces, he was hideous; deformed and scarred from all the wounds he received during his mother's battles with birds to keep him by her side.
Collapsing a mile from the city limits, he rested on his stomach, legs outstretched on both ends and furry face in the dirt. He didn't care. He was too tired, he didn't care if he got dirty, if he looked dead or like road kill. He was so tired. Just a nap would suffice.
Just a nap.
He didn't wake.
But, miraculously, while holding on, a van with an incoherent name on the white metallic side pulled over and two people got out - the driver and the passenger. They were in casual clothing, so it was uncertain what their profession was, but judging from the words they were spewing - "low heart rate", "fading pulse", "glossy eyes" - they were veterinarians. Rescue veterinarians, in fact, who had come to the city on a call.
He was picked up gingerly - he didn't weigh a single thing - and placed in a crate in the back, with other species of animals, and taken back into the city.
He wasn't aware of a single jostle.
His lungs burned, his heart shrunk, and his eyes widened in fright. His legs carried him far from the back alley of the restaurant, through the streets missing cars by just a hairs breadth, and away from the city border all together, with it's twinkling lights and false hopes. His name was Oliver; he was courageous, caring, brave. And had black fur, a naturally charcoal colored nose, and heterochromic eyes that featured one brown and the other blue.
Why was a kitten hanging around the back of a closed restaurant? Well it should be obvious - because he was hungry. His mother passed away only a few weeks ago, and he was fortunate enough to be taken in by a loving child and her mother. But when they realized just how monstrous he really was - tearing the drapes, pulling apart toys, and turning into a human boy - they soon rid him from their lives, calling after his retreating feature such horrific terms such as 'demon', 'monster' and 'hideous beast'.
Oliver, in fact, was not a hideous beast, but he wasn't aware of that fact. The scrawny, pale boy with thick black hair and unique eyes had never once seen his reflection when he was apart from his animal form - and by their words, he never wanted to. By the disgust on their faces, he was hideous; deformed and scarred from all the wounds he received during his mother's battles with birds to keep him by her side.
Collapsing a mile from the city limits, he rested on his stomach, legs outstretched on both ends and furry face in the dirt. He didn't care. He was too tired, he didn't care if he got dirty, if he looked dead or like road kill. He was so tired. Just a nap would suffice.
Just a nap.
He didn't wake.
But, miraculously, while holding on, a van with an incoherent name on the white metallic side pulled over and two people got out - the driver and the passenger. They were in casual clothing, so it was uncertain what their profession was, but judging from the words they were spewing - "low heart rate", "fading pulse", "glossy eyes" - they were veterinarians. Rescue veterinarians, in fact, who had come to the city on a call.
He was picked up gingerly - he didn't weigh a single thing - and placed in a crate in the back, with other species of animals, and taken back into the city.
He wasn't aware of a single jostle.
