Completed Story 💕📖
Gypsy is a white Pitbull stuck in a high-kill animal shelter. She is due to be euthanized in just two days. However, a ghost appears to her and helps her escape.
The ghost doesn't know his own name or why he's here, able to sp...
Gypsy considered taking a nap beneath a tree on the edge of the forest.
Obelisk had taken her puppies on the long trek to the beach, after they'd begged her all sunrise to go.
And it was strange, being alone again. But it was also comforting. Underneath the lavish waving branches of a willow tree at the edge of the woodland, she felt content and subdued.
Time didn't register well in this place. If you wondered how long you'd been here; there was no immediate answer from God or a vision. Not like with other questions.
Instead, there was no answer at all. And it was sort of like living without alarm clocks or calendars. Each morning, she could tell what time of day it was; but not what day, week, or year.
And so, Gypsy found that the less you thought about the time, the faster it passed by. The angel-dog watched two dragonflies buzz angrily around each other, tipping her halo in thought as her mind inevitably slid towards her missing sons.
She knew where they were; living with humans in a family, with two lovely little boys and a little girl. Her resentment of people didn't blind her to the fact that humans were her pup's second chance at a quality life; one that was safe and sheltered.
But how big were Finn and Copper were now? Bustling, burly male dogs like their father in nothing but appearance, no doubt. And Lavender, too, must be fully grown by now as well. I bet North can't wait to see her she-pup again.
But how much longer will we wait?
I don't like resentment, but it feels as if I've died and lived another life without them. Gypsy pictured Ace's cream-and-black pelt, as she finally saw Obelisk and her puppies approaching in the distance.
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That night, Obelisk and the pups slept in the forest with her.
The now not-so-old male dog reconciled with Gypsy before he drifted off to sleep, and she felt warm closure at his experienced words.
"One day, the pain of waiting will be nothing but a distant memory. Don't worry, child. You'll see. He's coming soon; and I can feel it."
However, it wasn't long into the lavender twilit night that Gypsy felt a small nudge on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Ginger there, the brown puppy's pelt swathed in shadow. The moonlight that sifted through the treetops cast an eery-grey over the forest.
"What're you doing awake, my sweet?" Gypsy gestured for her tiny brindle-and-white she-pup to lay down beside her, and Ginger did.
The puppies' ear-fluff ruffled on the gentle night's wind. Among the dark brown leaves of Gypsy's nest, she could hardly make out Ginger's cinnamon-brown pelt.
"It's just that... I don't want to stay like this, Mummy. I want to grow up, and grow old- and try things that they don't have here." She looked on shyly, and curled her paws into herself regretfully.
Gypsy's tolerance began to waver as she fought off near-panic. I don't want to be alone! The Pit-bull thought morbidly, and so recklessly opened her mouth to challenge,
"You know you'll forget us until you die again?"
Then she calmed herself, and drew a breath. Ginger didn't deserve to be spoken to so brashly, as such a young pup.
Her halo moved with her as Gypsy leaned forward to nose-touch her daughter with understanding, instead.
"You can cross the hills, if you want to."
She thought of how Ghost had told her that day, not to be selfish. And it was, in fact, the least she could do- to not be selfish to her puppies. To not make her death all about her; and nor theirs, either.
"But if you aren't yet totally sure, think about it first. There's things here that we could ask for, and God will give us. We can have nearly anything we want, my dear. And real life is a dangerous place-"
"I know." Ginger interrupted, crossing her paws impatiently.
"I have thought about it a long time, Mother. I've been here a long time.... We all have." Ginger muttered quietly, her tiny jowels moving as she spoke.
The white angel-dog felt a pang of pity at hearing such a truth. Ginger and Riley had been here even longer than her. Were they wondering when their turn to live a life would come?
Sighing, then stifling it and giving a weak smile at her daughter, Gypsy wiped away all of her insecurities.
It's her choice, not mine.
"If you're certain, you can leave tomorrow, Ginger. Me and Obelisk and North, and your siblings will come with to the foot of the Hills." Hesitating, Gypsy stilled. Then she turned her head back towards her daughter, who was beginning to nestle closer against her in the slanted moonlight.
"And.. if any of the other pups want the same thing, they can go with you."
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Initially, Gypsy had been forlorn at the thought of losing one of her puppies. Especially when Riley said he wanted to go, too- and that Star would just continue to consider it.
And so, Riley and Ginger left the following morning, as sunlight poured across their backs and sent shadows stretching behind them. Somehow, they already looked older; even with their tiny statures. Neither pup looked back, but Gypsy did.
She kept staring after them, until they rounded a bend, and then a whimper espcaped her breath.
Their precious, tiny and vulnerable souls, would be exposed to the world now. Would they find their roads to satisfaction and peace?
"It's alright, Mama. You have me and North and Star and Obelisk. I won't ever leave unless you do." Kiwi stared up at her, the pup's honey-and-white pelt sliding across her shoulders as she padded closer.
The mother-dog sat down heavily, as North came closer to comfort her as well. Obelisk gave her a quelling, yet thoughtful look, and Gypsy could tell what it was asking.
When will you go?
Gypsy wasn't sure. The only thing she was certain of, was that she'd wait for Ace first. No matter how long it took.
But what if Ace finds a new mate first? Not that we ever really got to be mates, but...
Serene cotton-candy clouds, pierced with heavenly sunlight, drifted across the sky above them.
However, did Gypsy notice? Not really. It was all still to her. The dogs running and playing were deaf to her ears.
And somehow, in such a wonderful, beautiful place- she felt that she was beginning to lose hope.
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The Hills
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