BlogWars: Rachael Ritchey's post

I wanted to share with all of you my competition's submission.  Even though the results ended up being in my favor, I thought she did a wonderful job.  So without further ado, I give you Rabbit Abduction.

As always, thank you Rachael for the fun time.  I can't wait to do it again.  BlogWars: Episode Two.

:D

BlogWars: Rabbits

About three (I think) weeks ago, my friend Rachael Ritchey and I agreed to a bet.  A wager.  A blog post war.  Blog Wars.  The topic: Rabbits.  Don't ask me why we came up with rabbits.  I don't know a blasted thing about rabbits.  But we did, so I have to write a blog post about Easter Bunny wannabes.  So Rabbits. . . .Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits. . . .Ra. . . . Bits. . . . Rabbits. . . . Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits, rabbits rabbits rabbits. . . . Rabbits. . . . Bunny. . . .   Bunnies. . . . Hare. . . .Hair?  No, Rabbits.  Rabbits, rabbits rabbits.   Rabbits, why’d it have to be rabbits?  I don’t a blasted thing about rabbits. 

Rachael, you may just win this one.

That is unless. . . . No, it couldn’t. . . . But what could the harm be? Looking like a fool?  I already do that with great success.  Beyond that???  . . . .  It’s audatious. . . .  Still. . . .  Stupid. . . . Yeah, but. . . .   Well, I couldn’t. . . .  Could I?

Ω

Noddington Hare stared wide-eyed into the pervasive darkness.  Damp paws gripped his pole-arm—a three-tongged fork tied to a stick with a shoelace he’d found somewhere.  His cardboard armor—it was thick cardboard, thank you—felt too tight about his middle while a cap made from half a tin can kept falling in front of his eyes.  Reaching up, he adjusted the cap for the hundredth time.  It would be so much better if he had not had to wear it, but standing guard duty in the middle of the night?  He wasn’t about to be caught without it.

Silence reigned about him as his eyes flicked from one point to another.  This human’s yard wasn’t too large—larger than most in the city—but it was big enough.  He’d had to keep turning his head to see everything.  Which caused his helmet to slide.  The yard formed an “L” that forced him to occasionally hop around to look past the corner.  Which also caused his helmet to attempt escape.  A wooden wall stood behind him.  Some human had used it to store dirt.  Who needed to store dirt?  Sure, the plants they used above to hold the dirt in place looked pretty and smelled nice, but it was obvious the humans were hording dirt.  Humans were funny creatures.

His ears twitched as a dog barked in the distance.  He took a step back.  Or at least tried to.  If he were any closer to that wall behind him, he’d be part of it.  Nod reached up and readjusted his helmet.  Another dog barked, this one off to his right.  Dangerous creatures dogs, Nod thought as he readjusted his helmet again.  You never knew which way they would jump.  And they were too stupid—most of them, at least—to communicate even rudimentarily.  No wonder humans kept them as pets.  Funny creatures with dumb pets.  There was a truth.

It was humans that caused him to be out here anyway.  Nod had no idea who came up with the idea for the Rabbit Corp to hide eggs every spring, but that didn’t remove the responsibility.  While his senior partner was marking territory with eggy goodness, he, as junior most member,had to stand watch. Protect his bunny-buddy.  He wanted to move about.  If he was being honest with himself, he’d still probably be scared, but he was also pretty sure moving about would help.  Absently, he readjusted his helmet once again.

To his left, a sharp click sounded.  Without thinking, he bolted around the wooden embankment’s corner before slowly poking his head around, nearly losing his helmet.  He silently cursed the thing as  he watched the white door—at least Nod assumed that’s what it was—which protected the rest of the community, his community, from those disruptive humans opened.  A light, nearly enough to blind him, flipped on.  He squinted, rubbed his eyes with a paw, and looked again.

“Maxie,” a voice said.  “Go potty.”  With that, a black bolt of fur rushed into the open. 

Nod nearly jumped out of his skin.  A dog.  Why did it have to be a dog?  The creature rushed forward, sniffing the ground.  Moving as slowly as possible, Nod backed away from the.  His pole-arm, stuck out in front of him, weaved in an unsteady grip.  Where was everyone else?  If they came back now, maybe everyone could scare it away together.  If not that, then maybe they could run.  He could run. 

Nod continued to back away further into the shadows, watching for the dog.  By the time it made an appearance, he was hidden in the lea of the wall.  If Nod had dared to turn his back, he probably could have the top of the wall.  It was low enough here.  But he didn’t dare turn his back.  Dogs scared him too much. 

The dog’s nose was firmly glued to the ground, sniffing and unmoving.  It was dark, probably brown or black in full light.  Eyes glittered golden in the light by the door.  A red collar encircled its neck with tags jingling at the bottom with every sniff. 

Right were Nod had stood. 

The dog looked up, turning its head to look into the darkness .  Golden eyes met Nod’s and its jaws opened.  Nod wanted to scream, but no breath came.  His lungs froze.  His whole body froze.  He could feel his helmet slipping and almost welcomed the darkness.  That way he wouldn’t see his end coming.  This wasn’t what he wanted.  No where near.  Why couldn’t the creature have just ignored the smell?  Why couldn’t his fellow corpsmen have returned by now?  Why didn’t he move?  Why?  Why?  Why?

With a soft snort, the dog bounded forward.  It ran in a tight circle then headed straight for the shadows Nod hid in.  Jerkily, Nod raised his fork on its stick.  Why couldn’t he have found something a bit more substantial than a fork?  What good would a fork do?  The tines weaved in a figure eight as the dog came on like an unstoppable force.

It stopped a foot in front of Nod and crouched with its head on its forepaws while its butt flew high, moving almost as much as its tail.  It yipped.  The sound was soft and light.  Nod took a deep breath and moved one foot back, bracing himself for the attack to come.  Again the dog yipped, but this time it hopped as well.  Back and forth, two then three times, before returning to its previous stance. 

“Maxie, where are you?”  The human’s voice startled Nod.  His attention waivered as he glanced away looked toward where the human stood beyond his dirt.  You should keep better track of your animal, Human.  That’s when the dog struck.

Something wet and rough ran up the side of Nod’s head, dislodging his helmet.  He looked back in time to see the dog’s tongue lick up his face again.  It smelled awful.  Nod dropped his pole-arm and bounded backwards a short distance.  Enough to get him out of attack range.  A paw gripped his helmet, preventing it from falling off completely as he moved. 

“Maxie,” the human shouted.  “Inside.”

The dog hadn’t moved after the second attack.  It still didn’t move now.  It just stood there, head on paws and tail wagging, watching Nod.  A moment later it hopped a few more times before coming to rest in its original position.

“Maxie!”

The jaws opened and its tongue, a long red thing, lolled out the side of its mouth.  Nod had no idea what came over him as he took two steps forward.  He must have a batch of the crazies.  Why was he doing this?  It made no sense.  But logic didn’t hold him back as he reached out a paw and rubbed the tip of the dog’s nose.  Soft.  And warm.

“Maxie,” the human shouted, voice harsher than before.  “Inside!  Now!”

And with that the dog was gone.  Nod felt his shoulders relax as the human’s protective door closed and the accompanying light went out.  That was a bit too close.  Never—not in his wildest dreams—had he ever expected to be that close to such a creature.  Still, he felt a loss at its absence.  It made little sense. 

Nod picked up his pole-arm as he mulled it over.  Yeah.  The loss was real.  His heart hurt as he resumed his post.  Maybe next year he’d ask for this post again.