Warning! There is some violence towards the end of the story that some readers might find disturbing.
“Good afternoon, Sparky!” Joyce called from the kitchen. “Have you been a good boy?” She was a girl 13 years of age with blue eyes and golden hair tied up in pigtails. Her smile brightened up the dark, depressing house instantly as if she was the only joy the house will and can endure.
A dog burst in to greet his master. He was an American Eskimo Dog with white fur, penetrating eyes, and a smile to die for. His collar was red and there he was, dressed up in a black shirt and cute, blue socks. “Yes,” Sparky wanted to say. “I’ve been a good boy!” Unfortunately for him, dogs can’t talk. “Well,” Joyce said. “It seems that you’ve been a good boy. How about a walk as a reward?” “NO!” Sparky thought. “I don’t want to go on a walk!” Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. So, Joyce led Sparky on an hour-long walk around the neighborhood.
Sparky the dog felt unseen by the family who owned him. No one in the family asked for his opinion in family discussions. No one ever counted him when they were asked how many people there were. No one cared about his feelings or what he wanted. Every day, Joyce (his owner) would make him breakfast and go to school. He wanted to tag along, but Joyce explained to him that dogs were not allowed in school. He did not want to be treated like an inferior. He wanted more. He wanted to have some control over his life like humans do, talk like humans do, hang out with friends like humans do. However, life just doesn’t work that way.
One night, he heard Joyce’s parents questioning whether or not to put him to sleep, because he was getting too old and grouchy. Enough was enough. That was the day he decided to become human.
Last week, he had found a book that taught the dark arts. He did not believe in it, of course, but desperate times require desperate measures. He got out a cauldron, took the book and started reading until he got to the spell he wanted. Spell #13: Animal to Human Transformation. It had some basic ingredients, including salt, a four-leaf clover, etc. Then, he got to the last ingredient: the spell required a human sacrifice and to put their body parts into the cauldron.
So that afternoon when Joyce came home from school and greeted him, he immediately pounced on her and began scratching her up. She screamed and tried to run away, but his hold was firm. She begged and pleaded for her life until the inevitable silence that came over as her soul was received into the fiery embrace of hell.
The deed was done. Blood, guts, intestines, internal organs, and entrails were splattered across the floor. He looked down at the corpse. It had been mutilated to the point where it was completely unrecognizable. The house suddenly seemed darker and colder than usual. The lively soul that had once lit the house was gone. Nothing was left, only emptiness. Sparky shrugged it off and continued with his plan. He gently took the remains and put them into his cauldron. Once the potion was done, he drank it. “This tastes horrible,” he thought before all went black.
“Good evening, honey,” Joyce’s mom said as she came home from work later that day. “Did anything happen while I was gone?” “Oh nothing, mom.” Joyce replied. “Nothing at all.”
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