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Category Archives: The Heroes

Chapter 5: Zoe, Ben, and the Furry Lady of the Righteous Path.

<<<Chapter 4: From the Apple Grove to the Knoll – Becoming Anon and Rescuing Cubby the Terrier Pup (Part II)<<<

When the rain had stopped, Zoe had pulled herself out of the tree-hollow and checked out the place. A few noses-full of the air had told her that there was a water-body nearby. The air smelled of fish, and fish meant water. This place was hundreds of miles away from the sea, and so it had to be fresh water.

Zoe’s mouth began to water. She was famished.

She sniffed again.

The air that carried the smell was blowing southward, which meant that the water-body was up north.

The anticipation of food made her forget her injuries and prompted her to run, but as her muscles tensed, the pain flared up once again. She yelped and turned to check her bruised leg. It was her left hind and it looked a little crooked. She licked it, hoping that the licking would reduce the inflammation and bring the pain down.

Her thoughts returned to the family. Unbidden thoughts came swarming into her mind.

Did they miss her?

Nobody talked to her; nobody gave her treats; nobody cuddled up with her, except little Johnny, but whenever his mom saw him with Zoe, she dragged him away.

She shook her head and tried to drive away those dark memories, but there weren’t any brighter ones to take their place, so they kept slipping back in place.

Splash!

A sound of something falling into water broke the eerie silence of the place.

The water-body was close. Very close!

This motivated her.

She stood up again, careful of not putting her weight on her left hind, instead redistributing it on the other three. Slowly, she followed the scent. The ground was uneven and every step that she took sent waves of pain through her broken leg, but she persevered. She went around the huge rock that the hollow tree had fallen against. The undergrowth here was rather high. There were shrubs that left you bristling if you brushed past them and there were trees of all kinds, but most of them were pines. The ground was covered with dried-up pine needles.

Zoe carefully found her way through the jungle, wincing with every step, but continuing nevertheless.

In about an hour, she collapsed at the side of the creek. As she sat there and took it all in, she realized that right where she was, a group of boulders had formed a tiny pool.

She dragged herself closer and peered in.

There was fish in the water.

adventures of the whistling woods - a book by bobby elhans - zoe the injured labrador pup finds fish.

She managed to catch three after seven misses. Terrible performance. But after she had caught one and devoured it with a hunger that she had sustained for almost forty hours, it became easier; and yet, every time she leaped into the water to catch one, the pain that shot through her leg made her yelp.

The pain was bad, but the yelp was good, because it brought her to Ben’s attention.

Ben, who was tying up his catch fifty yards upstream of where Zoe sat, heard Zoe scream.

This was the first time in four years that he had come this far and in all the times that he had been in this place, this was the first time that he had heard a dog. The Whistling Woods, as the outsiders called this forest, were intimidating and forbidding, and nobody ever came in this far. Yet, today, the rain had played havoc and it was impossible to fish in the swirly muddy waters downstream. So he had climbed up to reached this place in search of relatively still water.

When he heard Zoe, he was preparing to leave. But now he couldn’t. Not without checking upon the pup.

So he walked along the western bank of the creek, crossing the ruins of the stone-bridge on his way. It was odd that there used to be a bridge in the middle of these woods. Possibly someone lived here once, he thought absently.

There it was. A yellow Labrador pup!

“Yooohoo!” He called out and waved at Zoe.

Zoe looked up and saw a bearded man waving at her. He wore a hat. She squinted. The hat looked like a woman’s hat. That’s strange, she thought. Here experience told her that humans were generally finicky about what they called fashion, and a man wearing a woman’s hat was definitely being unfashionable.

adventures of the whistling woods - a book by bobby elhans - zoe the injured labrador pup is rescued by Ben, the man in the ladies' hat.

But it didn’t matter. Right now she just wanted to be rescued, and she couldn’t care less if her rescuer was wearing a dress instead of that grayed out overcoat. The man had a ragged backpack throne on his back and a reeled-in fishing rod in one of his hands that were covered in tattered leather gloves.

She sniffed the air.

The man wasn’t a threat. He was friendly.

All this processing took Zoe less than a second, and she wagged her tail. The delay was imperceptible to Ben. He had no idea that the pup had already analyzed and categorized him. The wagging tail, he knew, was a friendly gesture. Ben had never owned a dog. He was not that kind of a man. He hadn’t married, had no kids, and for the entire world, he was a good-for-nothing bum on the streets.

Today, for no logical reason, he found himself drawn towards the pup.

He stepped over the stone and held out a hand. Hold your hand out, palm up, he had read somewhere. Dogs felt threatened when a stranger approached them and held out a hand palm down.

Zoe looking into his eyes, and held up a paw.

Ben took her paw into his hand, little realizing that his action had forged a bond of friendship between them. He didn’t know it yet, but their souls had connected.

In the forest that people knew as the Whistling Woods, nothing curious had happened in seven long years – then in a single day, two pairs of lives crossed paths and two friendships were formed.

The Furry Lady of the Righteous Path had brought them together.

As Ben bent down to pick Zoe up, she smiled upon them through the canopies of the trees that whistled and sang to celebrate the moment.

——— ¤¤¤ ———

Just outside the Whistling Woods, forces dark and evil were gathering momentum, and the Furry Lady of the Righteous Path knew that she had to hurry.

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Chapter 4: From the Apple Grove to the Knoll – Rescuing Cubby the Terrier Pup (Part II)

<<<Chapter 4: From the Apple Grove to the Knoll – Becoming Anon (Part I)<<<

Continued…

He ran through the apple grove and came out in a small clearing that had a knoll in the middle. Trees surrounded the knoll, but the only vegetation upon it was a few shrubs, some wild-plants, and thick grass. The sound of howling continued to fill the clearing. It was louder now, and it certainly came from the knoll.

The boy ran up the shallow slope of the knoll. Even though his shoes were uncomfortably huge, he was nimble on his feet. When he reached the top of the knoll, the ground ahead of him opened into a deep hole. Anyone else would’ve fallen in, but he understood the woods and had learned to expect the unexpected, so he stopped a few steps short of it.

He fell to his knees and crawled ahead cautiously, testing the ground with one of his hands before moving forward. He knew something about these holes. The edges were crumbling all the time, and it was best to approach a hole cautiously, so just before peering down into it, he lowered himself down and spread-eagled himself on the ground, digging his toes into the dirt. When he felt secure, he pulled himself a little over the edge and looked down.

There was indeed a creature down there. The kind he had never seen before. It looked more like a piece of rag with its dirty threads hanging matted and loose. Yet, because it was the thing that was producing the howling sound, he was sure that it was actually a creature.

“Shhhh,” he made a sound – the kind he whenever he hurt himself; it always soothed him, so perhaps it would soothe this creature too.

He was right. The tiny dirty bundle of fur stopped wailing almost immediately.

The next thing that happened was certainly very odd. It had never happened to the boy before! He heard a voice penetrate his mind and speak to him.

“Hey, I am Cubby,” said the voice, “please help. Take me out of here.”

What was odder still was that the boy understood the meaning of what he heard. Seven years of silence could make anyone believe that he was deaf and dumb.

But what the boy didn’t know was that he wasn’t supposed to hear and understand Cubby, because Cubby was a pup, and pups and humans don’t usually hold conversations.

“Hey, boy! Are you going to help me or not?” He heard the creature again.

Sure, but I need to think of a way to get you out, the boy thought.

The oddest of all things hadn’t happened yet, which was that the creature heard his thought and barked back.

“OK boy, don’t take too long. These quarters are awfully cramped, even for a tiny pup!”

The boy heard it – but he wasn’t shocked by it. He came across a new oddity every few days. So what if he had never spoken to any animal in the past – there was always a first time. Later, after he had saved it, he would also find out what kind of creature a “pup” was.

Right now, he had a problem to solve. If only he could build a sort of bucket, which he could hang in the hole, the creature could climb into the bucket and he would pull it out.

What can I use to make a bucket? He thought.

“Are you dense? Use your hat!” the pup barked back.

So the creature can actually hear my thoughts, another thought unwittingly popped up in the boy’s mind.

“Sure I can. Now can we cap the small talk and get me out of here,” said the pup in a voice that sounded gruff and more in command now. Cubby was back in his element.

The boy removed his hat and inspected its rim. It was already full of holes. He could actually use a couple of creepers, twist them into a rope and run the rope through the holes to make a sling and save this poor creature.

The boy acted on his plan, and in a few minutes Cubby was out of the hole.

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Pet Rescue Stories - Cubby the Terrier pup is rescued by the nameless boy - Adventures, children's literature, pups, dogs, heroes.

After the cold and wet dirt at the base of the hole, Cubby found the hat soft and warm, so he didn’t hurry out. Instead, he held out a paw.

“Thank you Mister, you saved my life.” he said, and then introduced himself to his savior in a low dignified bark trying to imitate the older dogs that he had met prior to zooming down the hole.

“I’m Cubby. I am a three-month old terrier who has lost its family,” he said.

For a moment the boy wondered about the words “terrier” and “family,” then he took the offered paw in his hand and thought, Cubby, I live here. It’s getting dark now, and it’s best I leave. So please get out of the hat.

Cubby gave him the soulful look that only a pup can muster, but he didn’t leave the hat.

He had nowhere to go.

So the boy carefully took him out of the hat and sat him down on the ground. Then he picked his hat, removed the creepers from the hole and put the hat on his head.

Cubby still sat there.

Why don’t you go somewhere? He looked at the pup and thought.

“Where?” whined the pup, his voice soft – the kind that melts people’s hearts!

The boy had no answer.

The pup barked again, softly. The boy was odd. He’d have to change his tactic.

“What’s your name, boy?”

Name? What is a name? The boy thought.

“A name is a way to identify you, to call you. For example, my name is Cubby, so when someone says Cubby, I know they are talking to me,” said the pup, slightly puzzled because he had never met anyone without a name.

I don’t have one, the boy mused, an old musty feeling of sadness creeping upon him.

“No name? I see,” said the pup wondering whether he indeed saw anything, but he wanted to keep the conversation going, so he continued, “Someone who keeps his name secret is called Anonymous. How about this – lest us give you a name! Let us call you Anon.”

And who is going to call me Anon? I live alone, thought the boy.

“I will, if you take me along,” the pup looked into his eyes and made a promise of forever friendship and loyalty – the promise that had been made between a human and his dog for centuries, and which had stood all tests of time.

The boy didn’t know about promises and stuff, but when he heard the pup and looked into those innocent eyes, his heart melted. He smiled and picked up the dirty little rag doll and put him into the pocket of his oversized overcoat. A feeling of soft warmth spread through the boy’s body, as the pup laid his chin over the boy’s sleeve.

For the first time in his little life the pup had imprinted upon someone, and his canine senses told him that now he would forever be Anon’s dog.

For the first time since he could remember, the boy had talked to someone – and although he didn’t know anything about pups and dogs and their loyalty towards their human companions, he knew that he had found a forever friend!

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Chapter 4 - Part 2 - A Story of Superheroes - Pets, Dogs, Cats, and time-travel - Adventures.

That evening when the boy returned to the cave, he was no longer lonely or nameless – he had Cubby and he had a name.

When he moved the creepers aside, entered his cave, and threw the switch on, he remembered – he now had a purpose too. He was going to uncover every secret that lay buried in the room that he had discovered in the morning!

Anon had no idea that a saga of never-heard-or-seen-before adventures was about to begin.

Outside the cave, it had started to rain again.

Twenty miles southeast of the cave, Zoe was still alone.

 

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From the Hideout: Why Publish a Book on a Blog?

I don’t know about all the other writers out there, but I am an obsessive storyteller who accidentally discovered writing as a medium to tell stories. A few years ago, I just happened to write a few stories, and discovered that writing stories could be a very interesting thing to do. As the written stories are immortal, I found writing to be a substantially more satisfying experience too. Since my serendipitous discovery, I’ve written short stories, adventure-serials, two novels, and two novellas. Have I published any? None. Why? Because of the perceived tedium involved in the publishing process.

I did check out Amazon, but I realized that unless you promote your stuff (or in other words, blow your own trumpet,) your book has near about zero chance of finding a buyer. I also read a lot of stories about reviews being bought (and sold) or swapped, and it all made me realize that I had neither the strength nor the resources to do any of it. I reflected on the situation and I concluded that I’d rather spend my time writing stories than trying to publish them.

I don’t know how much time I’ll be spending here in this iron-box that I euphemistically call “my hideout,” but until I am able to get out of this place, I’ll continue to publish the Adventures of the Heroes on my blog: Chapter-wise.

You’ve met Zoe, Cubby, and the Nameless Boy who lives in a Cave that isn’t a cave. Soon they will come together, with a couple of other equally disparate characters – and they’ll form a team, that will beat all other Super-Heroes of the world.

If you want to follow them on their adventures, follow this blog by clicking/tapping the Follow button in the right sidebar. The only condition for following is that you must think and believe that you are below 18. Those older-in-their-hearts could recommend it to the young in their families. I’d truly appreciate it.

I must now return to the story that I am writing for a competition. Cheer me on, please!

 

 
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Posted by on May 9, 2014 in At the Hideout, The Heroes

 

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Chapter 3 (Continued): The Nameless Boy and the Cave that wasn’t (Part II)

<<<Chapter 3: The Nameless Boy and the Cave that Wasn’t (Part I)<<<

(Continued from Chapter 3 – Part I)

But it would be dark inside, he thought.

There were a few candles somewhere in the cave, perhaps in the kitchen – he remembered how his mother used the lighter to light them up. Fortunately, the light-lever always worked and he never had to use them, so they must still be there.

He found the candles in one of the drawers near the sink. He took one, lighted it, and carried it back into the bedroom. Then he pulled out the brass key that he wore around his neck, and pushed it in the keyhole of the door that had tormented him for the last seven years.

He tried to turn the key in the lock, but it refused to budge. He tried again, clockwise and counter-clockwise both, but it nothing happened.

His heart sank. Perhaps it was the wrong key, but he couldn’t give up without trying, could he? The need to look at what lay behind the door gained strength from his inability to open the door.

He placed the candle on the desk to free his other hand.

He tried again, but failed. Either the key didn’t belong to this lock, or it didn’t open the lock the regular way.

Not the regular way?

His parents never did anything the regular way. Perhaps there was another way. The boy was uneducated but smart. He checked the space around the lock. Sure enough, this wasn’t a regular lock. There were twelve tiny holes around the keyhole.

He had an idea.

He ran back into the kitchen and brought back a small screwdriver. He inserted the screwdriver into one of the holes. It touched something, perhaps a disk that got pushed back by a few millimeters. He held the screwdriver in position, tried turning the key again. The key didn’t demand any effort from him this time, and he heard the lock open with a soft click.

He smiled to laud his own victory.

He pushed the door open. It was a heavy door made of metal. It opened into total darkness. The boy had no idea how deep this room, or recess, or whatever it was, was.

He was glad that he had thought of the candle. He picked it up and entered.

His heart beat faster as he looked around. The room was about thirty feet deep, and there were things that he had never seen before. Wooden shelves lined with books cast scary looking shadows on the walls, a huge table that was almost treble the size of the kitchen table stood in the middle, overflowing with books, parchment, lamps, and other objects that he could barely recognize.

Gingerly he walked around the table and reached his father’s chair. He placed the candle down upon the surface of the table. Oddly enough, there was no dust on the surface.

Then he lowered himself into his father’s seat.

Open in front of him was a handwritten, leather-bound notebook. He looked at it mesmerized. He couldn’t read, but he knew that it belonged to his father, and that made him feel sad and happy at the same time. He reached out and touched the pages of the notebook. Then he whispered one of the few words that he knew.

“Papa,” he said, his throat parched and his eyes stinging.

chapter 3 - pen and ink artwork - father's leather-bound notebook that the boy finds behind the locked door - artwork, illustrations.

He sat there for a long time, turning the pages of the notebook, looking at the drawings and the writing of his father. He wished he knew how to read and write. Faint images of his mother teaching him how to write faded in and out of his mind.

He pulled himself away from the notebook, leaving it where it was. Then he got up and walked around the table, trying to peer through the glass-doors of the cabinets. He wished there was light in there.

Perhaps there was, perhaps there was a lever somewhere. The way there was a lever outside for lighting up rest of the cave.

He came back to the table, picked up the candle, and starting checking the walls.

There it was, right next to one of the cabinets. It was smaller than the one outside. He pushed it down, and the place flooded with light.

He stayed in the room for a long time. He looked at the objects – glass containers, metal-strips, an extendible metal tube with glass at one end; he looked at the books and diaries, most leather-bound, some monogramed with an eagle.

He didn’t realize how long he had been there until he heard a rumbling sound. It took him a moment to recognize it as the sound that he stomach made when he was hungry.

There won’t be fish for dinner, but he could find something else – perhaps collect some berries or find some fallen fruits.

He knew that he wouldn’t sleep that night. His fear of the unknown room had disappeared completely. Now he didn’t want to leave it. With a heavy heart, he switched the light off and left the room.

——— ¤¤¤ ———

The nameless boy had no idea that his destiny was about to change, and that he was also going to get a name…very soon.

 
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Posted by on May 7, 2014 in Chapters, Super-heroes, The Heroes

 

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Chapter 3: The Nameless Boy and the Cave that wasn’t (Part I)

<<<Chapter 2: Cubby<<<

(Introducing the boy and the cave that wasn’t…)

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The boy entered the cave, wet and shivering. He had been out in the rain too long.

His early morning fishing expedition had resulted in nothing. Not that he had expected much. Rain always agitated the water in the river making the fish vanish from his regular fishing spots. But he had to try. After spending a full hour out in the cold, with the icy breeze lashing on his back, he had returned empty-handed.

The boy lived in this cave alone; he had lived here forever.

Seven years ago, he wasn’t alone. His parents used to live with him. Then one day, they left and never returned. All these years he had lived alone and fended for himself. He had learned to divide the day into two halves. When he woke up in the morning, the first half began. In the mornings he fished, hunted, or collected fruits and nuts. When his shadow became really small and almost vanished under his feet, he stopped work and returned to his cave.
On days like today when the sun didn’t shine, he lost track of time. So when he returned to the cave today, he was not aware that it was still the first half of the day.

He pushed aside the grass and the creepers that hid the entrance of the cave, and entered.

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Chapter 3 - the Heroes - The Nameless Boy and the Cave that wasn't - Bobby Elhans

After taking three measured steps in the dark, he raised his hand and pushed down a lever that jutted from the wall at his left. A bulb went on and lighted the area in front of him. He had used the lever on his own for the last seven years, and yet he had no idea why pushing that lever down could light up the cave.

The interiors of the cave that he had entered couldn’t have looked less like a cave, but he had never seen any other cave, so he didn’t find it odd. In fact, the interiors of his cave looked more like those of a house. Caves were usually narrow and they went deep into the belly of the mountain but this one didn’t.

This cave was different. It flared inside its mouth on both sides and its walls were made of wood.

Unlike the regular caves, its floor wasn’t made of dirt; instead it was paved with stone. After a small open area, there was a wooden wall with a door in the middle. The door didn’t have a lock, but it had a clasp to shut it.

The boy undid the clasp, opened the door, and entered the room he knew as the lobby. The lobby was not a lot to look at. It had a rug on the stone floor and a vase of artificial flowers in a corner.

The door in the wall at the boy’s left opened in a small kitchen – complete with a fireplace, a chimney, and a wooden table that had three wooden chairs placed around it.

The boy went into the kitchen and picked up an apple that lay on the table, and then he turned and walked out of the kitchen into the lobby.

He didn’t stop in the lobby; instead he swung open the door that was opposite to the kitchen door. This door opened into a much bigger area that had another locked door in the far wall. A comfortable looking couch, a cupboard, a desk, and a bed occupied the space.
The boy was tired. He dropped down on the bed, and took a bite from the apple.

More than tired, the boy was bored.

Then he remembered the key. Absently and wordlessly, the boy wondered how hunger had the capacity to make you forget everything. Just last night, he had found the key that he had been dreaming of, all these years.

He turned and gazed at the locked door behind him. The door had tormented him for years. It had snuck into his dreams and turned them into nightmares. For the boy, the door had symbolized both hope and fear.

Once again, looking at it, he was reminded of the questions that still remained unanswered.

Why had his parents not returned?

What had happened to them?

What lay behind the door?

Why he kept dreaming that his parents were in a room behind the door?

And why, when he saw that key lying at the bottom of that urn in the loft of the kitchen, he instantly knew which door the key would open?

He had hundreds of questions that needed answering. A small voice in his head told him that this key would help him find the answers.

The door was different from those other doors in the cave. It was reinforced with steel strips. The brass locking mechanism that was embedded right in the center of it looked extremely formidable too.

The thrill of stepping into the unknown made the boy’s heart beat faster.
He slipped his hand inside the old tattered shirt that he was wearing and his fingers closed around the key.

He tossed the core of the apple into a trash bin that stood near one of the sofas, rubbed his hands on his jeans, and stood up.

He was going inside.

——— ¤¤¤ ———

To go behind the locked door, read, “Chapter 3: The Nameless Boy and the Cave that wasn’t (Part II)”  

>>>Chapter 3: The Nameless Boy and the Cave that Wasn’t (Part II)>>>

 
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Posted by on May 5, 2014 in Chapters, Super-heroes, The Heroes

 

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From the Hideout – Why we need Google and Dogs don’t?

(Note to the Readers: “Chapter 3: The Boy who lived in the Cave” will be posted tomorrow.)

For the last three days, I’ve been killing the keyboard over this story that I want to enter in a competition. Deep inside I know that I am not competition material. I’ve never won anything – not even a trip to the local fun-park. And yet I am sending an entry to this competition. Why? Because I am trapped in this underground hole of a room, and I have nothing better to do.

My situation is somewhat similar to Cubby’s except that I feel that his is a notch better than mine. I am sure Cubby would disagree.

On the virtual ground level of the world of Internet, I’ve discovered some cool blogs and learned to re-tweet and favorite, and frankly I am enjoying it.

Here are some of the blogs that I am following now. If you too have been canini-fied, you will find them as interesting as I do.

In the past few days, the story of our heroes has progressed a lot and I’ll be posting the fresh chapters more frequently now, so if are interested in reading pet-fiction and super-hero fantasies, push the Follow button and the chapters will be delivered right there in your mailbox.

By following this blog you confirm that you think you are below 18.

I am not going to repeat this elsewhere on the blog, and if you do follow this blog, I’ll assume that you do believe that you are still in your teens.

Let me leave you with this sketch that just appeared on my notebook, two days ago. I added a smart looking number and the blog address, so that it looked blog-worthy. I must share the credit for creation of this cartoon with my dog, whose continual sniffing led me to think that she was googling her treats up. For my incorrect conjecture, my left ear was promptly barked off. You moron, she said, humans need Google, because their noses don’t work.

smart and cute dog pup pet cartoon - why we need google.

Oh, Rumpydog has posted a cute poem about the powerful canine nose here. Do check it out.

That’s all, folks!

Tomorrow I shall return to tell you about the nameless boy and his discovery – and then we will return to Cubby and Zoe and see how they’ve been faring.

 

 

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Chapter 2: Cubby

<<<Chapter 1: Zoe<<<

(Introducing Cubby…)

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He went round and round – not because he was chasing his tail, but because there was no space for him to do anything else. He was at the bottom of a vertical shaft that was no more than two feet in diameter. Right in the middle of it was a puddle of dirty water. It had rained last night.

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Chapter 2 - Cubby Falls into a Thirty Feet deep hole - Bobby's Hideout - Bobby Elhans.

Cubby tried to figure out the place. The circular dirt wall went up and above his small frame, until it opened up to show a small circle of the gray sky.

When he had fallen, he had yelped. Not deliberately. A thirty-feet fall could make a grown-up yelp like a pup – and Cubby was indeed a pup.

Later, he had barked and even howled. Terriers weren’t the best in the howling department, yet he had tried.

Nothing had worked.

They were gone. They had left him behind.

But Cubby couldn’t fault them with it, could he?

He had jumped out of the trailer when they had stopped the car by the side of the road. Mom wanted to take a picture for her blog and dad had popped the hood to check the coolant in the engine. Cubby had jumped out of the trailer, so that he could stretch his limbs.

OK. He was lying.

In fact, he had stolen that stretching-the-limbs expression from a TV Grandma whose name he couldn’t remember. Truth be told, he had spotted a squirrel and he wanted to chase it.

By the time he had turned back, the car was gone!

At first, he thought that chasing the car wouldn’t be a big deal, but after running a couple of miles, he had realized that he was wrong. There was a huge difference between the power packed by a 75 HP engine and a 0.5 DP dog.

For the first time in his life, he felt miserable and hungry – but he was an optimistic and resourceful pup. He saw some rats and geckos and his vermin-hunting genes kicked in. An hour of hunting was followed by a sumptuous dinner. That had made him smug.

He could survive on his own, couldn’t he?

He didn’t need those humans, did he?

His thoughts had rudely interrupted by the ground beneath him that gave way and sent him tumbling into a dark hole in the ground.

Now, almost thirty feet below the surface, sitting tight against the dirt-wall, Cubby reflected upon the last two days.

In his litter, he was the last to be adopted. The emotional bond that he shared with his adoptive family was minimal. There was a strong chance that his absence would be discovered only after they reached the motel where they had booked themselves a room for the night. So, even if they did come looking for him, it won’t be until tomorrow.

If they came looking for him?

It was a big “if” that appeared to be to a gigantic, impossible to solve “IF” to three-month old Lakeland terrier pup, who could do nothing but wait for fate to take its course.

Cubby coiled himself up, rested his chin upon his front paws, and sighed.

——— ¤¤¤ ———

Somewhere else in the woods, an eleven-year old boy opened an old leather-bound notebook that had once belonged to his father.

>>>Chapter 3: The Nameless Boy and the Cave that Wasn’t (Part I)>>>

 
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Posted by on April 27, 2014 in Chapters, Cubby, Super-heroes, The Heroes

 

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