The Beast

By: Dylan Spencer

On the way to the hospital I could feel no pain, but I knew what he had done to me earlier that day. I had just flown in from Kansas City, and it was my first day in Vegas. My dad had already gone to work, and grandma was out back mowing the lawn, unable to hear the sounds around her.

After watching a couple movies inside, I moved outside to the hot desert air and went for a swim. After swimming I was tired, so I started walking around the pool. Then I heard the dog on the other side. When I looked over I could see nothing, but I could hear him. Still, I could tell it was a big dog by the sound of its foot steps, one after another I listened. Soon I was on top of the wall looking for the dog.

The dog was big and black, with a mane of muscle around its shoulders. The dog seemed nice when it started licking my Taz slippers, so I jumped down to pet it. The dog licked my hands and let me scratch its ears. Then something strange happened to the dog; it stopped breathing and stared into my gut like it was looking right inside of me.

I started to back away but it just followed, still staring at the same spot. My fingers touched the wall. He had me cornered. Then he did it. He slammed me up against the wall! I had nowhere to go, slashing, cutting, biting. It wouldn’t stop!

I had to do something or else I was going to die. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rock, the rock that was going to save me. I kneed him in the gut. He kept going. Again and again I fought the dog, punching it in the face, finding any place where my body could connect to his. Finally it hit the ground. I picked up the rock and stood over him like a new person, like the beast he was. Then he was dead.

I’ll never forget that day, not just because of the scars I have or the memories that are jammed in my mind, but because of the thought that my life could have ended right there, just like his.