Gone

• Anna Butler, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2016

I knew something was wrong the moment we began. My spine was tingling and something in the air felt off. I could tell Ginger felt it too. Unusually tense, her ears were back, and her spine stiff. Though it made me uncomfortable, I shrugged it off. It was unimportant. Nothing to worry about. So on I walked, Ginger at my heels. I was determined to get this over and done with, and go home. Traipsing down the long and narrow path, I felt very alone. Winter had taken its toll on the old town; the grass withered, and trees bare. Shadows loomed from all sides, and I began to walk faster.
Dusk was falling, and fast. Terror was soon replaced with eagerness to get home, and faster still I walked. I heard a whimper, and saw that Ginger was having about as much fun as I was. "Almost home Girl,” I muttered, but I didn't know who I was trying to convince, Ginger or myself.
I glanced down again, and stopped abruptly. Ginger was panting, violently, she flopped onto the sidewalk, quivering. I was panic-stricken, and confused. She was only two, not old at all, and she'd shown no signs of illness the other day. But she looked as if she was about to- “No,” I told myself. Ginger would not, could not die. Not now, not like this.
On closer inspection, I found something that made me sick. There was a hole, no, a bite, right in the middle of Ginger's chest. The skin around was tinged a horrible, sickly yellow. “Poison,” I whispered weakly.
“No,” I thought desperately. “No!” I yelled. “NO!” my voice was defiant, but inside I felt all my hope was slipping away. Already as she lay there, I felt her heartbeat fading, the light that had always been there, in her eyes, growing dimmer. “No,” I murmured.
Suddenly, I didn't care about the darkness, or the shadows, or the childish fears I'd had only moments before. Now, they felt pale in comparison, an unreal battle against myself. This one was real, and I was losing.
Soon I was lying down too, hugging her fiercely, as if I could claw her back from whatever place she was leaving me for. As if I could prevent the inevitable.
And then I started crying, because my Ginger was gone. She was still, silent. Something my Ginger never was, and never should have been. I cried because Ginger was gone. Gone forever.