Tommy’s Dog – Short Story

Part Three of Tommy’s Life

Tommy sniffed the sweet sea air. He loved how fresh everything smelt on the beach. He licked his lips and tasted the salt. The small dog he had recently rescued from the shelter, ran by his side. Everyone stopped to talk to the guy with the cute dog.

The wind blew the sand around his feet as he took another deep breath. The first relaxing breath he had been able to take for two weeks. Ever since he had been stopped in the subway by the policeman, after the Facebook challenge. His act of pretending to be the first aider, whilst killing his victims was over. This time Tommy had managed to escape the suspicions of the police. He knew he would not be that lucky next time. One more incident of Tommy being found at a murder scene and his mission would be over for good.

Last week he had packed up his small belongings and moved location, to the other side of the country. Tommy had always liked the sea. If you lived by the sea you needed a dog, hence the trip to the local pound.

It had been over two weeks since Tommy had killed. He was convincing himself that the urge had passed. He no longer craved driving a knife through the ribs of another person. That part of his life had finished, he had evolved and changed. He had even disposed of his favourite hunting knife. Tommy was a reformed character.

He whistled to his dog, as he started walking up the boat ramp, towards the sea wall. Over the sea wall, through the pub carpark and he would be home. He hummed a tune to himself. For the first time in his 25 years, Tommy felt content. Maybe, it was the dog that had changed his outlook, maybe, it was the sea air.

“Do you fancy fish and chips on the way home?” He said.

Talking to a dog, great he was losing his shit, must be the stress of the last couple of weeks. Still, that was behind him now. He had the dog to look after, he couldn’t afford to kill again.

Taking the leash from around his shoulders, Tommy bent down and clipped the dog on. He started walking through the carpark.

As he neared the exit, a voice brought him out of his dream.

“Oh you dirty bastard, clear up after your dog.”

Tommy looked around and saw an overweight man, coming towards him. Tommy turned and walked towards the stranger.

“Look at this fucking dog shit on my shoes. You dirty bastard, you could have cleaned up after your dog.”

The man walked between the two cars and kicked out at Tommy’s dog. Tommy bent down, catching the guys foot before he connected with the dog’s ribs. Tommy unclipped the leash, allowing the dog to back away.

“It wasn’t my dog mate,” Tommy said.

“Bollocks it wasn’t.” The man snarled.

As he said this he punctuated every syllable with a prod to Tommy’s chest.

Before Tommy knew what was happening he had wound the leash around both his hands. Stepping up to the man, in one fluid motion, he wrapped the leash around the guy’s throat and started to pull. He felt the leash become solid in his hands and a feeling of ecstasy travelled along his body. The guy was strong, but Tommy held on. Tommy held and pulled until the twitching in the guy’s legs stopped. The guy hung limp, against the restraint around his neck.

Tommy lowered the guy to the floor behind his car. The excitement and joy he felt rippled through his body.

He would have to move again, that was obvious. Tommy however, had evolved the MO was different, the feeling was better. Better than a knife, with a leash you could feel the life ebb from a body.

The mission was back on. Six had become Tommy’s new lucky number.

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