alrighty, here is the furry version of my latest story that has yet to be given a proper name...
please forgive any editing mistakes as i did this in a bit of a hurry, i wanted to get it done before i left to visit with my friends... enjoy...
The deafening wheet-wheet of cicadas' twilight song muffled the steps of a lone teenage fox as he walked down the empty highway. The fox wore grey tattered cargo pants with frayed ends that splayed over scuffed black leather boots as well as a brown leather jacket despite the early fall heat. Over his right shoulder hung a black messenger bag, and loosely wrapped around his neck was draped a green fleece scarf. His red fur was messy and unkempt, his tail was in need of brushing, and what fur could be seen from under the tan cab drivers hat was in much the same condition. Neon lights and signs drew his attention to a small deli, a place that families would stop at to enjoy a quick lunch before continuing on to their destination. the fox's stomach growled... Tentatively he reached into his pocket and felt for what little money he had, his stomach growled again...
Upon entering the establishment the soothing beat and relaxing tempo of the cicadas' song was replaced by the irritating buzz of an air conditioning unit. The walls were yellowing, but the tables and peeling linoleum floor seemed clean enough. A long stretch of counter top and sneeze guard next to the register allowed any customers to watch their food being prepared. The fox walked up to the counter and pulled out a single bill.
In a voice hoarse from lack of use he asked,
"I have five dollars sir... what is the most I can get for it?"
The Pig behind the counter turned around, he wore an eye patch over his left eye and for a moment the fox wondered if it was real. The Pig was in disparate need of a shave, evident in the black stubble that permeated his face. The apron, stretched around his portly girth was probably at one time white but now had degraded to an odd shade of tan-brown, with irregular stains made up of different sauces, dressings, and toppings being spilt onto it over countless years.
In an almost absurd contradiction to his appearance when he spoke his voice was high in pitched and oily smooth, almost as if he were singing.
"I can get you an 8 inch sandwich or a baked potato with the works, what will it be?"
"A sandwich please... with ham it that's possible."
"Possible?"' the Pig said, his voice raising half an octave, "of course it's possible! Look around son, you're in deli."
the fox only looked down and walked to the end of the counter to await his meal and pay. A bell gave off a light chime as three people entered the deli. Three other foxes entered the deli a mother and father spoke to each other about what to order while there young daughter who couldn't have been more than three or four looked at the fox with stunning blue eyes. the fox looked back at her, and for a moment they made eye contact. In that moment the fox noticed that in addition to her blue eyes she had pearly white fur, much unlike her parents who were both a shade of off white-grey. She smiled at the fox. Turning his head away from the beautiful white fox girl, the red fox didn't smile back... he could not...
"Running away from home son?" the large deli worker asked.
A sarcastic bark of laughter escaped the fox before he said "If only I had a home to run from..."
The deli worker cocked an eyebrow but said no more on the subject, instead he asked "Chips and a drink?"
Six months ago the fox would have said yes without a moment of hesitation. Six months ago he could afford to say yes. Six months ago he was a spontaneous sixteen year old fox, with friends and a family that cared for him. But that was all once upon a time, once upon that time he was Mitchell Carter, but not anymore, Mitchell Carter was dead. He had never planned for anything... he had never planned for any of this...
"No" he replied curtly
"Alright" the Pig said "four eighty-seven"
the fox handed him his last five dollar bill and after taking his change, took his sandwich to a table and unwrapped it's wax paper covering. He tore the sandwich in half and re wrapped the larger of the two, not trusting himself with the whole thing. Placing the larger piece in the side pocket of his pants, he walked to the door. As he passed the family he looked back down at the young fox girl with the white fur she was still staring. The mother looked over at her daughter then up at the fox.
"Dear," she said addressing her daughter "it isn't polite to stare-- I'm sorry young man, was she-" But the fox was gone.
Night had fallen; the cicadas had ceased there song for the evening and now the only sounds that could be herd was the rustle of leaves and the movements of nocturnal feral animals that moved through the bushes off the side of the road the fox currently walked down. he eventually fell into a trance like state, when he walked, his mind wandered only to return to him long enough for him to realize he was at a fork, to the left was an unspecified distance of trees and grass. To the right read a sign welcoming any who cared to read it to the subdivision called Shadow Spring Meadow West.
the fox looked left first he had been on the road for a long time, best to not stop if he was just going to end up walking down this road anyway. He began to turn left when a breeze that soon turned into a forceful gale blew into his face and down the right road, then stopped almost as suddenly leaving the night still, and silent giving a most unnatural quality to it... Mitchell Carter was religious, ready to talk to god about anything and accept virtually everything as a sign. the fox standing in the street though... was in no way religious... When the absurd notion that this was gods will crossed the fox's mind he dismissed it as he would a fly... However, as the gale blew by it felt as though hands were trying to pull him back down the right road. the fox began to turn away from the road, fully intending to continue his journey into the unknown, when something came over him, an odd feeling... hard for him to describe, it was as if a warm and gentle voice spoke into his mind in words that seemed as through they were from a memory half forgotten... Maybe it was a sign... Maybe Mitchell Carter wasn't dead... the fox turned and with the wind to his back walked down the road... Into Shadow Spring Meadow West...