The Boy and His Dog


    The sun shone ever so gently on the valley below. A faint melody drifted in the air, blending with footfalls on heavy rocks. The loose boulders shifted as he leapt from one to the next, never doubting his balance despite their wobble. Before each jump, he hummed his tune, then paused just long enough to concentrate for the leap.


    A few hops later, he stopped, tipping his face to the sky for warmth. He closed his eyes to let the sun soak his skin, feeling the wind tousle the strands of his brown hair. He imagined himself drifting with it, free, but a stomach grumble interrupted the moment. Time to eat.


    He set his small backpack on the rocks and ran a hand over its worn fabric. This was a prized possession, collected from somewhere and now covered in stickers from his many adventures. His hand traced his favourite — a little green monster with orange spikes and a wide grin. Someone had labelled it ‘Tyrannosaurus Rex”, but he knew what a T.Rex looked like, and this wasn’t it. But monsters didn’t look like that either, for that matter.


    He crouched down, slipping his hand into the backpack without even looking. He knew what he’d find in there: his stash of “essentials”. Food, of course, but there was more in there — his beloved red scarf, a leathery notebook and a battered toy car. Its wheels were missing, but it was perfect for pretending, and it reminded him of a real one he’d once seen parked crooked on the side of an old road.


    After a few seconds of rummaging, his fingers brushed against cold metal. Got it. He revealed his prize in the sunlight, squinting as the tin glinted. Etched on it appeared a faded label — half a picture of a cat and letters long worn away. He made a face. Maybe it was cat meat, but even if it was, he could handle it. Hunger made you brave.


    He dug in without waiting for his friend — who wouldn’t eat anyway.


    The buildings flanked the road on either side, towering like guardians watching over him. He rose to his feet, glancing back as an emptiness pressed down on him, heavy and uncomfortable, a weight he only felt when his companion wasn’t by his side. He squinted and hoped to see its shadow move through the debris. It would eventually find its way, even if the tangled mess of broken walls and twisted metal slowed it down. Then, a soft clatter made his heart lift. Relief washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile.


    Dog was his best friend, his companion through every expedition. Together, they were explorers of this forgotten world, discovering secrets in the dust. They had met in a massive building filled with treasures — glittering jewels, toys, books and strange machines whose purposes were lost on him. But that place terrified him; its endless halls were alive with shadows. He had never returned since.


    He noticed a flock of birds land farther away, a fluttering speck of life against the concrete. He drifted closer, pulled by the gentle chaos of tiny wings, until he crept close enough to crouch and marvel at their antics. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked himself in a ball. It made him feel safe — almost hidden, like the world beyond couldn’t touch him here.


    The tiny brown creatures fussed over crumbs caught in a patch of grass that had forced its way up through cracks in the stone. He swayed a little, watching them, wondering if they could talk to each other and if they had best friends and families. The thought made his heart ache a little. Still, he was glad for them, glad they had each other in whatever way birds did.


    Feeling uneasy, he curiously searched for a distraction. Beyond the birds stood a large opening in the building, the kind that swung in a circle — he loved those. The excitement sparked in his chest, and the birds scattered in a whirl of feathers as he rushed to the building. He leaned against a window, the glass chilling his palms. Wooden planks obscured his vision, and he squinted, pressing his forehead against the glass to peer in the darkness. What secrets possibly lay hidden inside?


    The doors spun wildly, faster and faster, as he pushed them merrily, running in circles until the whole world blurred around him. Finally, he stumbled to a stop, dizzy. A storm whirled inside his stomach in a mix of giddy joy and prickly anticipation about what lay beyond the doors.


    He steadied himself and caught his breath, eyes wide as he took in the lobby stretching before him. It was massive, a single long desk spanning from left to right, and behind it, twin staircases climbed upward, flanking a wall covered in graffiti — a giant rendition of Earth, like the one in his encyclopedia. One word was slashed across it in red letters: Doomed.


    It felt heavy… But he wasn’t sure what the word meant. Frowning, he dug into his bag and pulled out his small notebook and the accompanying fluffy pen. Then, he carefully copied the word onto a fresh page, adding a question mark beside it.


    His footsteps echoed in the hollow space, stirring loose papers that blanketed the floor like fallen leaves. It’s a mess. He tiptoed around the desk and wondered if he would find something exciting — perhaps some strange tool he hadn’t seen before.


    But then, a shape at the centre made him freeze.


    A man.


    His eyes widened. The man sat slumped against the wall, legs sprawled out. He’s sleeping! But there was something off — patches of yellow moss clung to the skin, sprouting in some places into pale mushrooms. Twisted tendrils spread out from the body, hooked to the floor and snaking up the walls. It emanated around, branching like some strange root system.


    A shiver ran down his spine, yet he couldn’t look away — he’d never seen it this close before. The man had become part of the building itself.


    An unpleasant smell filled the air. He covered his wrinkled nose with both hands, but still, he felt a pull — a magnetic tug drawing him closer, daring him to get a better look. Part of him wanted to reach out, feel the spongy patches on the man’s skin as if they might hold a secret he needed to know.


    The sound of doors spinning behind startled him. He glanced back, relief washing over him when he saw Dog had trotted in. “Come, Dog!” he called, keeping his voice low just in case, “I found someone!” Dog’s cardboard ears flapped as it padded over, halting next to him.


    His stomach twisted with a thrill. The man could suddenly wake up. Beware of strangers. But he had a feeling it was the kind of sleep that could go on forever. So he lowered his backpack carefully to the floor, patting his companion. “Dog, stay!” he whispered, a feeling of adventure growing inside. He’d be cautious and quiet.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    He sneaked forward, one careful step at a time, his feet gliding over clear patches without papers to crinkle. Closer now, he could see the man’s skin in detail — fuzzy and discoloured, sometimes bluish, it shimmered in the dim light. The smell was worse here. “Yuck,” he whispered, but he didn’t stop. Fear and fascination bubbled inside, and he wondered if the man needed help.


    He leaned closer, drawn by an urge unexplained — the heat rose in his cheeks.


    Suddenly, just behind the man’s face, something moved. Legs crawled over the mottled skin. It took a second to understand, but when he did, his heart raced as he lunged towards Dog.


    “Spider!” he screamed, all the fascination now giving way to terror. His heart pounded with every step, and it felt like the creature was right behind him, matching his pace — just a heartbeat away from catching him.


    He scooped up the bag and clutched it tightly as he dashed towards the exit. “Come, Dog!” This time, he made only one necessary turn in the carousel before bursting into the open. Sunlight hit him in a brilliant warmth that felt comforting. The fear fizzled, replaced by a sense of triumph. A giggle slipped out, followed by another as his laughter spilt into the empty street. Dog trotted up beside him, and he doubled over with a wide grin. “That was funny!”


    <hr>


    A gentle trickle of water joined his song as he wandered carefree along the river’s edge. “Round and round the world we go ~” His arms swung joyfully in wide arcs that matched his steps. The river cut a clear path through stone and dirt, and he followed as if the water guided him. “Past the river through the snow ~”


    The sun dipped low, casting long shadows that reached him, and he felt the tug of home. He raised his voice, playful but softer now. “Chasing shadows, chasing light ~” Beside him, Dog kept pace in steady strides, its gentle whirring a companion to his rhythm. He grinned, pleased to have Dog as his only audience. “Hide before the fall of night ~”


    As the last note faded, he looked to the west, knowing he’d have to make it back before the sky turned dark.


    Far ahead, birds burst from a tree, their wings flashing against the dusk. His song caught in his throat. Whatever had spooked them might be close. His instincts urged him to hide, and without another thought, he slid down the slope towards the riverbank in search of cover — a large rock jutted from the earth, its large shadow promising shelter.


    He huddled behind it, knees pulled to his chest. Dog shuffled in close beside him. “Sit,” he whispered, and Dog pressed its body low, folding its limbs as they had practised. They melted into the rock’s shadow, and he felt the cold earth beneath him. They stayed silent — listening.


    The world narrowed to the shared space between him and Dog. Hide, hide, don’t make a sound ~


    This fear was different — colder, locking his muscles in place. The kind of fear that pinned him down, like in those nightmares where he’d lie helpless as something crept at the edge of his vision, ready to pounce. He could hear, feel, and breathe but never move to run or even turn to face it. Invisible chains held him still.


    Yet he always woke up at some point, returning to his small bed.


    Now, though, he was wide awake.


    Footsteps echoed down the street, each one a deliberate thud. The men’s voices grated as they spoke about things he couldn’t understand. One of them tossed a stone into the river — it splashed close.


    He’d seen people before, but always from a distance. Most of them were dangerous, the kind he knew never to approach. Close your eyes and count to ten ~ He placed a hand on Dog’s back; the soft buzz beneath his palm always grounded him. He closed his eyes tight, retreating into the song’s quiet promise of safety. You’ll be safe when light comes then ~


    He wished he could be playing instead.


    The group passed him without noticing, focus locked on each other. Their deep voices carried boisterous echoes through the stillness of the city. “Think we’ll find some food? I’m craving meat,” one of them asked. “Stay focused,” another snapped, “We’ve got a job to do.” His heart raced at the mention of a “job” — recalling the colourful pictures from a baby book he had drawn over. Maybe they’re firemen.


    Curiosity tugged at him, and he allowed himself to peek around the rock slowly. Clad in matching uniforms, they wore helmets and padded armour. Maybe they were firemen, after all. His heart leapt as he watched in awe, trying to memorise every detail. Then, as one man shuffled through his pack, something fell out, landing with a muted clink on the ground. A thrill of excitement shot through him; he desperately wanted to rush towards it, to see what it was, but caution stopped him. What if they catch me?


    He looked down at Dog and whispered. “What do you think they’re doing?’


    When the men had disappeared up the street, he had waited long enough. Moving slowly towards the shiny object, he felt the weight of his decision. The metal caught the last light of day as he picked them up — keys. Three of them, their worn etchings almost invisible. He ran his fingers over, questions buzzing in his head. Should I give them back?


    Voices drifted from the street’s end, low and fading. “It’s gonna be dark soon; he’s not gonna be happy if we come back empty-handed…”


    A colder voice replied, “Dude, fuck Briggs.”


    He clutched the keys tighter, a shocked little gasp slipping out. That man had said a bad word.


    As he made his way back, the gentle rhythm of the river’s soft splashes calmed his racing heart. Meeting new people always left the world feeling different, as if each encounter added new pieces to the mystery surrounding him. What could the keys unlock? The thought brought a smile that warmed him despite the remnants of fear that lingered in his chest.


    A warm orange light bathed the street, casting the broken buildings in long shadows. As he climbed down the familiar slope towards the central building, he felt the quiet reassurance of the white facade against the impending twilight. Dog padded alongside him, and with a slight heave, he pushed open the heavy door, the familiar scent of dusty books greeting him. He let out a small sigh, feeling the relief of safety wrap around him, knowing he was home.


    The stone hall lay silent. His tiny footsteps echoed softly off marble columns stretching towards the high ceiling. The building brought a place of respite for the night, a vast, abandoned space with rooms he rarely explored — and one he knew to avoid. But his favourite place was marked by faded letters:


    CARL SAGAN LIBRARY


    In his mind, this was his bedroom; he loved how the wooden furniture gave the space a quiet warmth, and the smell of old books carried the memories of forgotten times.


    The door groaned as he tugged at the greened copper handle. A soft light spilt over the shelves below, stretching through rows and rows of books fading into the shadows. There were books on almost everything here: fantasy novels — his favourites — books about space, history, even cooking. He’d explored many of them, yet he always discovered something new, especially when it rained. On those days, he’d settle in with Dog, drawing dinosaurs and dragons or maybe inventing new friends on paper. Sometimes, he’d build things out of cardboard or spring in laps around the room, Dog dutifully trailing behind. It was like a bit of adventure, even inside.


    He moved past his little art corner and the old chest, where his stash of cans from the “Donation Room” was stored safely. The fading light in the room brought on a sleepiness, settling over him like a soft blanket. He gave Dog a gentle pat on the back, and a small screen flickered on, showing a clock and a battery icon — only a few bars left. He didn’t quite get how Dog worked, but he’d learned one thing: it seemed to gather energy during the day and lose it through the night, like a living opposite of himself.


    With a press of the light button, Dog started glowing in soft blue, lighting their space. It was a soothing glow, one that always made him feel safe enough to dream.


    Warm blankets draped over the entrance to his fort, forming a snug cocoon of covers, cardboard, and drawings nestled beneath a sturdy wooden desk. He dropped his bag, grabbed his notebook, and crawled into his safe place. Lying back in the blankets, he jotted down his journal entry for the day — short and simple, and filled with questions. Then, he reached for the thick book by his bed, flipping to the section marked “D”. His finger glided down the page, skimming the words until it paused on the one he was looking for:


    “Doomed, adj.: certain to fail, die or be destroyed. Ex: This is a doomed city.”


    ***