The Greyhound Nightmare (sequel)

Chapter 9

Bran had adjusted to his new life, he got fed once a day, if he was lucky. He slept on the cold, hard concrete of his kennel, and never got out, well, not yet anyways, and it had already been a month, though it felt like a year. The men came in every week and took dogs, one at a time, the older ones, or those who said they hadn't gotten out in actual years. The younger dogs that were taken out always came back, and if they were brave told the tale of the track. Bran had wanted to be a racing dog, but after the stories some of these dogs had told Bran wasn't so sure.

Clomp, Clomp, Clomp

That meant the man was coming, but not the one that took the young dogs, Bran knew by the sounds of the boots. Sure enough, the door flung open, and the man walked far back, farther back than he'd ever gone. To the dog next to Bran, his name was Willie Bunkers, and he never talked, supposedly because he'd lost hope, he'd lost hope of ever escaping, and of ever finding a life better than the one he lived. The man grabbed ahold of Willie, and stopped just outside of Bran's cage. He crouched down and stared at Bran for a second, than he got back up and dug his hand into a file stapled to the wood of Bran's kennel. On the back of it, Bran saw himself, and random scribbled things that Bran couldn't understand. After several moments the man shoved his file back into the paper and walked away with Willie.

Bran hadn't thought much of the interaction, after all, it was not uncommon that the men would look at the dog's files, though it had never happened to Bran himself. The days that followed were sad ones, Willie never returned, and the man himself hadn't come for longer than usual. The next visit came from the man that returned the dogs. And guess who's kennel he decided to visit? That's right, Bran himself was chosen. Bran was led out of the kennel, and in those following moments he got a good look at all the stages of being in the kennel. One, desperation, the dogs who howled, endless hours into the night. Two, understanding, understanding there's a slim chance you'll make it out. Three, defeat, finally losing hope and waiting for when your time comes. Four, time, your time comes, and decides whether you get to race, or are taken by the disappearing man. He saw dogs in all stages, and he was amazed to see that there weren't only greyhounds in the kennel, also many other sporty dogs. Than he gt to walk through what the kennel dogs called, 'the fate door' because it was what you went out when your fate had finally been chosen.

It had been so long since Bran had seen the sun, his eyes burned, and he tried to cower, in fear the monstrous orb would swallow him alive. He unexpectedly received a kick to the rear end, and looked behind him to see an older looking dog, with saggy fur around his muzzle.

"If you're scared of that, you're never going to make it," The dog grumbled, before turning back to what he was doing.

Bran etched up all the braveness he had been saving, and walked out from behind the man's legs. He saw it all, dogs of so many mistreatings, dogs who were being abused, some who literally collapsed and gave up, starved to death, beat to death, you name it, Bran saw it. He nearly vomited, it was a lot for a small dog to take in. Bran hadn't considered himself a pup anymore, he'd grown to a sizeable height, and had gone through more than an average dog his age would have. Bran was led to an arena, and forced inside an even smaller crate. It felt as if the world was caving in on him, the walls were eating him up, and he found he was gasping for breath even though the race hadn't even begun. Than, light struck his eyes, and he ran. He ran away, away from his fears and away from his new life, and for that short moment, he felt really himself again. Than his rear end was bit, hard, harder than every before. He made a small rotation, and saw a dog. But no ordinary dog, no, this one was midnight black, and had a small trail of blood on his lip. Bran had felt he'd seen this dog, and as the shadowish figure opened its mouth to speak, It all became clear.

"Faster, small dog, faster, or the whip will bite harder than I ever have."

Bran knew that dog, those clear, snow white teeth didn't appear on just any dog, this was the shadow dog Bran had seen in his dreams, except this dog was real, in plain sight. Bran did as the shadow dog had said and started digging into his energy.

"Good job, small dog, you must continue for a long time. Please small dog, listen, or I am afraid you will not make it."

Bran focused on the Shadow dog's words, he needed to, or else as Shadow dog had said, he was going to get whipped. Bran knew he was going to run out of energy soon, so he slowed down a little bit, and as Shadow dog had said, Bran felt a terrible burn on his lower back, it felt as if fire itself had struck it's flaming claws into Bran. He cried, and trembled, and with that the small dog, only slightly larger than a puppy, collapsed.