Guardian is Gone

[WP] You have been haunted by a demon for the past 10 years, but you have never noticed. Your chihuahua, Pogo, has been chasing the demon away for years. Pogo is on his death bed now, barely able to move. As you sit next to him crying, he is desperately trying to get you to look behind you.

******

He had been my only friend for a long time.

I was a spoiled child from an early age. An only son, born after ten years of matrimony, it only seemed fair, logical if you will, that my parents gave me the world - and in some cases, the universe - whenever I requested. I never had to know the struggles others born with not-so-silver spoons had to go through, but then again, I didn't want to.

Hometutoring was something I was accustomed to. Those Holywood movies always seemed to paint kids like me in a sad light - longing to be around kids my age and seeking friendship and all those other mushy feelings.

Certainly not me.

I was fine in my solitary life, in my own world, in my own bubble. There were always maidservants, butlers and the likes, and again, contrary to Hollywood's depiction, I was not mean to them.

They had learned to just leave me be moist of the time, and bring the things I needed at the appointed time. I wasn't a normal child, my mother always said, but I was fully functional, satisfactory in all the areas that pertained to this rich, refined lifestyle, and I was intelligent.

"You'll do," my father said, and that was that.

When I was twelve, I began to realise the value of communication and human interaction. Perhaps puberty came with a sudden awareness of what my life had been and what it should have been, going by the ethical standards of how things worked.

I was a silent, dark-haired boy with a taste for romcoms, as opposed to the energetic, outgoing blonde guy on the football team. Or any other clique I could fall into. The issue was that even in my solitude, I had no other friends who were like that. Whom I could talk to when and if I wanted.

"You don't need that, all you need is your teddy and more movies," my mother said, thrusting another furry bear into my arms.

Puberty came with a heightened sense of understanding, and I could tell my mother was grooming me based on the outdated movies she saw of how children grew up. Blinded by her business, social life and pride at having a son, she failed to see the cracks in my life.

"All you need is stocks, my boy," my father said, buying me more and more suits every now and then. "To walk with the creme de la creme of the society, you'll need to dress like them. Good brains, good looks and soon, you'll be making good money, Damn it, everyone will want to be friends with you then., You'll get the liberty of picking," he said, adjusting my cuff links and admiring his son.

On my 18th birthday, they decided to get me a pet. They were several years late with this gift; judging by Hollywood standards, it was supposed to be a car. That day, they also boarded their private jet on a business trip to Rome.

That day, their plane went missing, and it's charred rubble was found miles off course in the French Alps.

I knew I was sad, but I had no way to express it. I didn't know how to cry, and apparently, my body didn't as well. So I just listened to the priest say 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' as I held on to Pogo, my pet chihuahua.

Pogo was a wonderful companion. Sure, it took a while to know how to take care of him, but once I did, it was bliss ever since. Even though he wasn't human, and we couldn't talk, I felt I understood him on a deeper level. We could communicate in looks, and sometimes he was my personal diary.

I told him how I felt and he responded with concerned arfs!

Or so I thought.

One thing I could never understand was his habit of sudden fits of barking. He;d randomly begin barking fiercely, baring his teeth at me. I found it strange, and even once I invited a vet to come see him, all to no results.

I accepted it as a quirk of our 'friendship' and we enjoyed the rest of our time together.

All ten years of it.

And now, that time in a pet owners' life finally came. That time we all dreaded, but always had in the back of our heads, always expected. I couldn't ignore the warning signs of age anymore, and even Pogo noticed the sad look in my eyes.

He walked slowly, he tired easily, and even though he still barked r=frequently at random, his barks were weak.

I sat beside him on his favorite couch and held his front paw as I looked deeply into his half-closed eyes. His breathing looked very labored, but he kept straining to place his paw on my forehead. I felt it was his dying wish or final blessing, but then he began barking, softly but very violently, as he stretched his paw past my head.

At that moment I realized that ion ten years of Pogo's violent barking fits, never had I turned back. I always thought he was barking at me, not something behind me.

As I turned slowly, I was met with the most horrific thing I had ever seen.

It was my parents, still holding hands like they were doing when they left for the airport. But their clothes were ripped and soaked in blood. My father was missing an arm, and half of my mother's face was charred.

"My dear, why did you dispose of the teddy bears I got you?" my mother asked, a maniacal smile on her face.

I froze in terror.

"Sonny," my father said as they walked towards me. "Why didn't you invest in the stocks I asked you to?"

I was scared to the marrow, and my rigid neck shook no, right before he grabbed my neck with his claw-like fingers and ripped out my windpipe.

As I sank in a puddle of blood and broken dreams, I looked at my now dead dog and smiled.

We will meet on the other side, Pogo.

******

@Hanzell, @Leo_kitti, @Gwenie, @gertu13 it's one-shot szn, I guess. I can't wait to be done with Blades 😭😭.