Morning all. It is a chilly one today. Let’s warm up the brains with a morning writing prompt. Might not help the toes, but the fingers will be a little warmer at least. So think warming thoughts and let’s see what we came up with. Timers set for fifteen minutes and off we go.
Not where I thought this would go, but who doesn’t love a little good murder and mayhem in the morning?
Tuesday, December 23rd: The dog pawed at the door.
The dog pawed at the door. It was clear he wanted me to open it. He kept running back to where I stood and then back to the door. He pawed at it looked at me and then raced back to be barking, the performance starting over again. I didn’t know the dog. I didn’t know the house. I was new to the neighborhood in fact and didn’t really know much of anyone.
I was on my morning run, still trying to get my bearings. I was only stopped on the sidewalk because a tree fell and I was trying to figure out if there was a way around or if I should turn around and go back. Once I was certain the dog was trying to get my attention I called out to one of the officers safeguarding the scene. Those armed with chainsaws had yet to arrive and as the morning traffic was done there were few people about.
“Officer,” I called. He looked up and I waved. He looked annoyed by the interruption to his standing and watching of the empty street but he said something to his partner and walked over.
“I don’t know when the road will be clear, Ma’am,” he said. His voice carried notes of angry exhaustion as though he had been forced to say the same thing repeatedly and was sick of it. As there were no hoards angling to get by and as far as I could tell I was the only one he spoke to, I felt myself bristle with the tone. I swallowed it back.
‘Perhaps I missed the hoards trying to claim the sidewalk,’ I told myself.
“This dog seems to find something wrong.” I said. The words sounded strange as they slipped past my lips, but they were already in the air. He lifted an eyebrow at me and then turned to the dog. The dog was still pawing at the door. He then returned, barked and went back to the door.
“You know this dog, and house, Ma’am?” he asked.
“No I just moved into the neighborhood a few days ago. This is my first day not unpacking.”
“I see,” He nodded and walked over to the door. The dog waited, nose pressed to the edge of the door, waiting to be let in. The officer didn’t open the door. Instead he peered through the glass to get a look inside. He swore and stepped back.” He jerked his radio from his belt and began talking into it as he walked away. I didn’t hear what he said, but the other officer jumped as though stung when he rejoined him.
Part of me wanted to look into the window to see what was going on. The rest of me wanted nothing to do with it. I moved here for the quiet life. I did not need to get embroiled in anything now.
It was not how I wanted to meet my neighbors.
The dog whined and both officers returned to the door. They had a crowbar with them now, taken from one of the trunks.
“You stay there,” One of them told me, even though I hadn’t moved. I nodded and remained in place. The dog moved back a little and whined as they got the door open. Once free, the dog raced inside, the officers only a few steps behind. I heard the sounds of sirens in the background. It may have taken the people with the chainsaws a while to get across town, but it seemed the emergency vehicles were coming quick.
The officers were still inside when the ambulance and more police arrived. I was asked to step out of the way so I shifted but remained on the scene. Everyone else funneled into the house. I waited on the sidewalk, flashing lights painting me and the rest of the area in shades of blue and red.
Ten til Midnight 