Humble Beginnings - Dakota J (golden son ebook .txt) 📗
- Author: Dakota J
Book online «Humble Beginnings - Dakota J (golden son ebook .txt) 📗». Author Dakota J
young man, a Dalmatian. He looked over himself, from head to furry toe. Rudolph’s vibrantly blue eyes locked with their reflections for a moment then went along his form. The dog knew he was a mutt. It was very apparent due to his lack of a true Dalmatian coat. His front was mostly white, where as his back had primarily a dark navy blue color. His spots were only along the borders of blue to white. He could not help but look at his splotches of dark fur invading the white.
“122,” he told himself before noticing a new spot had appeared. “123…” he corrected.
Then he placed a paw at his thigh, grabbing the note. As he did so he took the time to look at himself again. He rarely ever got the chance to, once every two or three months when he was charged with cleaning the bathrooms. At this point he realized his life of servitude was leaving him with a rather toned body, muscles sculpted out from the flesh everywhere.
Rudolph chuckled lightly before the tension of the moment resurfaced within him. He scrambled to unfold the note. He was reading the words ‘Tool Box’ when he heard the door unlatch and begin to open. Thinking it was one of the guards, he grabbed whatever he could fashion a weapon out of. For now, a screwdriver would have to do. The Dalmatian gripped it, and hid behind the door just before it was too narrow for him to squeeze behind.
“Can’t believe they broke the damn treads on that thing, again,” the mechanic roared out in frustration. He strode in and went to the desk. Rudolph clutched the screwdriver to his chest, trembling, and trying to keep his frantic breath silent. The mechanic was a slender man, getting on in his years. He wore thick leather gloves, apron, and had a leather cap with welding goggles affixed to it. His grease stained face moved as he spoke again “And I can’t believe I lost my damned screwdriver!” He rose an arm up, that’s when Rudolph saw it. The mechanic had the toolbox. The metal thing made a loud slam as it hit the desk. Just as he was about to open it, the Dalmatian took action.
Rudolph slammed the door shut, startling the mechanic. Halfway turned around, the mechanic was slammed against the desk, and a paw slapped over his mouth. He felt the sharp prick against his neck; at least someone found his screwdriver.
“Don’t make me kill you,” Rudolph growled. He knew the punishment for trying to escape, torture for seventeen days, and then his broken body and spirit would be put on display for the rest of the slaves to see before he was finally thrown into the Bull Pen. Just thinking of that horrid place made him tremble with fear.
Suddenly the mechanic began to struggle, so Rudolph pressed the screwdriver down harder until a small drop of blood fell onto the desk. He growled, louder, baring his fangs for the mechanic to see in the mirror. “I will kill you.” The Dalmatian snarled. Then he felt the man’s teeth sink into his fingers. Rudolph yelped and pulled his paw away. The older man grabbed the tool box and threw it at Rudolph.
Rudolph was sent flying backwards into the mirror. He felt it crack against his shoulders, and heard the crash of the breaking glass. As he slid down, he could feel the cuts and gashes already bleeding. Looking up, he could only see the ankle of the mechanic fleeing. At least he was gone. Alone once again, the Dalmatian opened the box. He found the clothes under several layers of bolts, grommets, screws, hammers, even a hand held welder.
The young man shed his clothing and used what little fragments of the mirror were left to help dress his wounds. Just more scars to remember this place with. It would not be long before the mechanic found someone that would relay the message to Larzax, or worse, Geoff himself. Tying the pants around him before slipping the shoes and robe on took no time at all.
Rudolph found that the robe had pockets, which he was deeply thankful for. He had accidentally stained some of the note in blood, but he could still read it. The next set of instructions was clear.
Imprint
“122,” he told himself before noticing a new spot had appeared. “123…” he corrected.
Then he placed a paw at his thigh, grabbing the note. As he did so he took the time to look at himself again. He rarely ever got the chance to, once every two or three months when he was charged with cleaning the bathrooms. At this point he realized his life of servitude was leaving him with a rather toned body, muscles sculpted out from the flesh everywhere.
Rudolph chuckled lightly before the tension of the moment resurfaced within him. He scrambled to unfold the note. He was reading the words ‘Tool Box’ when he heard the door unlatch and begin to open. Thinking it was one of the guards, he grabbed whatever he could fashion a weapon out of. For now, a screwdriver would have to do. The Dalmatian gripped it, and hid behind the door just before it was too narrow for him to squeeze behind.
“Can’t believe they broke the damn treads on that thing, again,” the mechanic roared out in frustration. He strode in and went to the desk. Rudolph clutched the screwdriver to his chest, trembling, and trying to keep his frantic breath silent. The mechanic was a slender man, getting on in his years. He wore thick leather gloves, apron, and had a leather cap with welding goggles affixed to it. His grease stained face moved as he spoke again “And I can’t believe I lost my damned screwdriver!” He rose an arm up, that’s when Rudolph saw it. The mechanic had the toolbox. The metal thing made a loud slam as it hit the desk. Just as he was about to open it, the Dalmatian took action.
Rudolph slammed the door shut, startling the mechanic. Halfway turned around, the mechanic was slammed against the desk, and a paw slapped over his mouth. He felt the sharp prick against his neck; at least someone found his screwdriver.
“Don’t make me kill you,” Rudolph growled. He knew the punishment for trying to escape, torture for seventeen days, and then his broken body and spirit would be put on display for the rest of the slaves to see before he was finally thrown into the Bull Pen. Just thinking of that horrid place made him tremble with fear.
Suddenly the mechanic began to struggle, so Rudolph pressed the screwdriver down harder until a small drop of blood fell onto the desk. He growled, louder, baring his fangs for the mechanic to see in the mirror. “I will kill you.” The Dalmatian snarled. Then he felt the man’s teeth sink into his fingers. Rudolph yelped and pulled his paw away. The older man grabbed the tool box and threw it at Rudolph.
Rudolph was sent flying backwards into the mirror. He felt it crack against his shoulders, and heard the crash of the breaking glass. As he slid down, he could feel the cuts and gashes already bleeding. Looking up, he could only see the ankle of the mechanic fleeing. At least he was gone. Alone once again, the Dalmatian opened the box. He found the clothes under several layers of bolts, grommets, screws, hammers, even a hand held welder.
The young man shed his clothing and used what little fragments of the mirror were left to help dress his wounds. Just more scars to remember this place with. It would not be long before the mechanic found someone that would relay the message to Larzax, or worse, Geoff himself. Tying the pants around him before slipping the shoes and robe on took no time at all.
Rudolph found that the robe had pockets, which he was deeply thankful for. He had accidentally stained some of the note in blood, but he could still read it. The next set of instructions was clear.
Imprint
Publication Date: 10-19-2012
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