The Last RainA Story by Callisto
An excerpt from a larger story I'm working on, example of love gone wrong
The moment slipped like wind through his fingers.
"Please forgive me" he whined softly through the blood dripping muzzle. Thomas lay at his feet, dislocated jaws clinging to his face by a string of flesh. Brilliant patches of red splattered his coat screaming his guilt like sirens. Her fleeing footfalls faded as he fell to the floor, ears flat and splayed out as his muzzle hid between his paws, mournful howl echoing off the mocking walls. Sorrowful eyes looked up through blood stained fur, seeing she had gone though her scent still hang in the air, its warm fingers teasing his nose. He took a drunken stumble out of the chamber, leaving a crimson streaked paw print on the wall as he balanced himself.
"Callisto? What th-" The guard managed a surprised gasp before his face was crudely eviscerated. He fell slumped forward, Callisto supporting his weight for the moment before allowing him to fall to the floor.
"Anna?!" Callisto cried out above the steady hum of fluorescent lighting as he followed her scent.
Outside, the rain was heavy, cold, trails of vermillion water dripping down his guilty claws. "Anna!?" he cried again, answered only by cocking rifles and spotlights flooding his vision. The compound speakers sighed an order to fire, bullets digging into his fleshy shoulder and legs; he lurched snarling at the pain, though no rifle was deterred by the threat display, pelting him mercilessly until he hit the ground. Chunks of asphalt danced about him like flies ready to claim the kill.
Then it stopped, he whimpered pitifully, claws digging against the ground, beholding his own reflection in the collecting water, watching his own eyes going dim as it became harder to breathe, the shadows gathering around him ready to take him away from the rain.
"Anna" he whimpered softly, his voice barely speaking above the rain.
The puddle quaked as someone approached him, muscles growing stiff as he shut his eyes, he wouldn’t giving his executioner the pleasure of seeing him fade. It had her scent and a stroke across his head, the familiar warmth speaking so clearly through the wet matted fur.
The warmth faded, lifeless metal pressing between his ears.
© 2009 Callisto