Heal, Boy

5 02 2010

Rusty was nothing to mess with, to say the very least. He’d been locked up a time or two as he drifted from town to town in his younger years, leaving in his wake a forgotten troupe of little Rustys.

Fierce as he could be–and usually was–the dry, rigid sponge in his heart immediately and

permanently softened in the pool of an unfamiliar potion as he settled in to observe the tiny angel whom Patricia had brought into the newly-painted room and placed gently into the low-set, high-barred crib Rusty watched with transfixed wonder. The newborn girl would twitch slightly every few minutes, and Rusty’s heart would reflexively spring into an alert pounding, wringing itself with gushing do-or-die palpations for the next few eternal-seeming moments until he realized she was alright.

Patricia was across the house and all he could think was “How could she be away for even a minute?” At the thought, he felt an even stronger connection to the girl, since he had accepted some time ago that he was the odd-man out in Patricia’s heart, with not so much as a back scratch in weeks. But now he felt a new purpose and for the first time since God-only-knows-when, he felt his tail dancing behind him and his floppy tongue tingling for a kiss.

Originally posted at http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/heal-boy




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: