Writing Practice: The Last Species

Greetings, my dear fans. A special welcome to my billionth fan, welcome to the family.

Today, I wanted to experiment with a different genre. You see, I’m trying to keep my training program as diverse as possible. It’s because I’m a genius!

The greatest novelist who ever lived is doing his training, people. Feast your eyes on how greatness is unfolded.

Or just read three lines and realize that it’s crap and go read something worth your while. You can do that too 🙂

Anyway, let us get on with the story, shall we?


For me, it began with a headline of a news article I read on the internet. It was about an Indian guy who was killed by a tiger. I didn’t click the link to read the details, instead I clicked on a picture of Miley Cyrus. Seeing her go nuts was much more interesting news than an animal killing a man in a third world country.

The second sign was a TV report I saw the next day, when I was eating my breakfast. It was about a zoo worker, who was killed when he entered the lions’ cage for some cleaning. Who would be stupid enough to go inside a lion’s cage? I thought. Then I changed the channel to some reality cooking show. The day was Friday, and I didn’t want to ruin my mood, because tonight is game night, all the boys will be online.

I went to work, spent the day pretending to do something useful, then returned home, and fired up my PS3. I found all my friends online. Actually, I never saw any of these guys, we just play online together, and that was enough friendship to me. We were at it all night, shooting, bombing, and cursing. The night was fun, until I heard the scream outside.

I looked through the window, the screamer was a woman. She was running like crazy down the street. The scene would have terrified me if she was being chased by a mad man with a knife in his hand. But she was being chased by a cat, a beautiful, small, white cat. I hate cats.

I shut down the window, and endured the curses of my online buddies for leaving them stranded. After some more shooting, bombing, and even more cursing, I dropped like a dead body on my bed.

I really do hate cats, especially the sound they make when they fight. I mean, if you guys have a quarrel over some trash can, don’t involve us all in it with your loud, ugly cries of war. That same awful sound woke me up from my well-deserved sleep. I uttered a bad-ass curse, which I really regret forgetting, and got up to the window. I didn’t go there to throw something at the animal, but to see why was I also hearing the sound of a little girl screaming and crying.

I opened the window, and was startled to full awakening from what I saw. The girl was Linda, a twelve year old who lives next door. She was lying on the ground, her hands covering her face, and various cuts on her body were bleeding badly. Those cuts were caused by her cat, which was attacking her right in front of my eyes.

I saw a stunning woman at the mall the other day. I stalked her from store to store. And when she got into the sports’ goods store, I went inside, and bought a baseball bat, in a pathetic attempt to impress her, she didn’t notice at all. And the wooden stick was left in the corner of my room untouched.

 I was holding the wooden bat as I ran down the stairs. When I came out of the front door the cat was still attacking Linda, whose screams I couldn’t hear anymore. I reached there, and was lucky to land a perfect hit on the cat’s head. It dropped dead, or unconscious, a couple of inches away from the little girl. I kneeled beside her, checked if the poor child was still breathing. She was. So I picked her up, her blood staining me all over, and rushed to her house.

The door was open. I went inside and called for them “Mr. Frank? Mr. Frank! Janis? Hello?” But there was no answer. Then I heard footsteps upstairs, “Janis? Is that you? Linda is hurt badly… Janis!” And again, no answer. I got so angry, laid the wounded girl on the couch in the living room, and went upstairs. “Frank?” Where are they? I went directly to their bedroom, and I am embarrassed to admit it, but despite the situation, there was this little part of my pathetic brain that was hoping to catch the beautiful Janis coming out the shower or something. So I opened the door to the bedroom and there she was, lying on her bed, naked. Baron, their big, German shepherd, was eating her.

I froze in my place. Blood was everywhere in the room. She must have struggled really hard with the dog before she died. The animal didn’t notice me, at first. It was when I looked at the bathroom and noticed Frank’s leg, and took a step back, that Baron’s ears rose up and it turned sharply to stare and snarl at me. I closed the door just as the dog jumped at me from the bed. It slammed hard into the door, and kept slamming and barking loudly. I rushed down the stairs, and heard the bedroom’s door break just as I reached the ground floor. I ran outside, closed the front door behind me, and dashed across the street to my building. The dog was out of the door when I cleared the street. Despite that, the mad dog slammed into my building’s main door right after I closed it. I ran like crazy up the stairs to my apartment at the third floor, and locked the door behind me. I was about to sit down before I went back, and barricaded the door with my small eating table and some cardboard boxes full of comic books.

My breathing was still hard and fast. I couldn’t sit, walked back and forth across the room, until I heard my phone’s beep, incoming mail. I grabbed the phone; it was an email from one of my PS3 clan members,

“Dude check out the news it’s crazy!!!!”

I turned on the TV, Iron Chef America was on. I switched to CNN.

“… Are trying to know the reasons behind this strange aggressive behavior. They advise all citizens who own pets to lock them out of the house, and remain inside. In the mean time, police forces will arrive to collect all the animals. They will be taken safely in custody until a cure is found for this sudden epidemic…”

I was startled by the barking of many dogs outside. I went to the window; about ten to fifteen dogs were breaking into Frank’s house. That was when it hit me; Linda was still there, I’ve totally forgotten about her.

To be continued


Finally, I’m glad I was able to write my thousand words for today, after yesterday’s dreadful block. I think I’ll be going back and forth between this story and the fantasy one.

I hope you all a very nice day. And catch you tomorrow.


4 thoughts on “Writing Practice: The Last Species

    • I’m really happy you liked it. And I appreciate your comments. As for Linda, I totally forgot about her myself lol. Then I remembered and it gave me a good cliffhanger to end the post. But now I have to figure out what happens next. Let’s wait and see where the writing fairy would take me :). BTW, this the first time I read about the “what happened to the mouse” concept. Thanks for the lesson 🙂

      • My trope literacy is…disturbingly high. I’m at the point of being essentially immune to TV Tropes’ effects on free time.

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