I’m joining in on Mama Kat’s writers workshop this week, and I picked prompt 1.
Who was at your front door? (inspired by fam mum slim)
Only I did it in the present tense, because I’m awesome like that.
Check out the rest of the linkups HERE, or link up yourself!
The dog who, moments before, was lying peacefully in front of the television, lurched to his feet and bolted for the door. He barked, pulling out the deep and intimidating woof he reserves for alerting us to potential intruders on our property.
Most people don’t bother with the doorbell.
I kick off my blanket, stand up, and narrowly avoid diving head-first into the wall, as the blanket follows me to the ground, twisting around my ankles like a cat. The barking increases from anxious to frantic, as he runs back and forth between the door and I, tail streaming like a banner.
Rushing barefoot towards the door, I stifle an agonized yelp as my pinky toe meets its doom at the hands of a large dog bone. Jerking my throbbing foot up high, I wobble off-balance and swing my foot out front to stabilize myself, landing hard on a stuffed dragon containing at least six still-functional squeakers. I hit them all, and the squeaked cries of the muppet-damned rise inharmoniously in the spaces between vehement woofs.
Eyes watering from the pain still shooting up from my toe, I hip check the door of the dog crate, rattling the entire metal framework in a manner reminiscent of a cartoon gong. The vibrations knock over a pile of paper that had been left carelessly near the edge, so that it cascades down onto the floor in a crinkly disaster.
I slip in between the dog and the door, fumble at the lock, and open the door a crack.
I open it further, the dog peering anxiously around my hip, head up and chest high, ready to defend the house from rogue boy scouts fundraising with chocolate, students offering their lawn mowing services, and people selling religion. Also quite determined to keep me between himself and the potentially dangerous intruder, just in case things go south.
I swing the door wide, and we stand, side by side in the doorway
The front porch is empty. The steps, the lawn, the driveway – empty. Even the street in front of our house – the street as far as I can see in either direction – is empty.
The dog has stopped barking. Sometimes I suspect he’s smarter than he looks, but since I’m already up, I guess I’ll take him out in the back yard for a bit.