The Whisper's Tale

I can see that you do not hate me, wheezed the Whisper. For now, you only fear me. That will be amended, for you shall soon learn what I have done to you.

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There once was a city-rat boy. The boy was lonely and sad. He spent his days scampering the rooflines and alleys, looking for pockets to pick, food scraps to steal. He was cold at times, warm at times, happy at times, and sad at times. But he was always, always lonely. For who would talk to a city-rat?

One day, the boy was in his usual, favorite alley, looking through his usual, favorite rubbish-bin. He fished inside and pulled out a drumstick, still warm and dripping grease. He licked his lips and opened his mouth for a bite, but felt a tug at his leg.

A puppy, starving and flea-ridden, had taken hold of his trousers. It pulled and pulled, and the boy could see that its eyes were locked onto the drumstick. Its stomach growled, and the boy could see how very hungry the little puppy was.

So the boy tore half the meat off the drumstick and gave it to the puppy. And from then on, the boy had a friend.

Together, they ran through the streets. The puppy would bark to distract someone, and the boy would pick their pockets. When it rained, they sheltered together, hiding under building eaves. When it was hot, they splashed together in the city fountains, whooping and hollering and running when the guards came near. When it was cold, they hugged each other for warmth, the puppy nestling into the boy’s arms. And whenever they were separated, they would meet each other back at that first alley, and hug and cry that they were ever apart.

For two years, the pair frolicked and fled. They danced and suffered. They played and cried. And so the puppy grew into a dog.

Then one winter, the Whisper saw their play and comfort.

“Oh, no, this will not do,” said the god. And while they were asleep one cold night, it reached inside them. From each, it took the sight of the other. And though they woke up together, they woke up alone, for they could not see each other.

“Oh, the dog must have been hungry,” said the boy to himself. “I’ll go find some food and meet him in the alley.”

The dog, thinking the same, did so as well. And when both reached the alley, they saw no one there. The dog sniffed for the boy, and though the boy was there, smelled nothing. The boy searched inside rubbish-bins, under crates, and in every shadow, but found nothing.

“I hope he’s alright,” said the boy to himself. “I’ll wait here for him. I know he’ll turn up.”

The dog, thinking the same, did so as well.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The day came and went. The boy grew hungrier and hungrier. But he would not leave the alley, for he so wanted to see the dog again.

The dog paced and sniffed. He tried to leave the alley, but couldn’t bear it, even for a moment. For what if the boy returned while he was away?

Night fell, and they waited still.

Snow fell, and they waited still.

When dawn came, a passing man found the boy half-frozen in the snow. The man picked the boy up and brought him home, warming him up by a fire.

And no one paid a thought to the little dog, curled up in a snowdrift, thinking its last, lonely thoughts of the boy who would never come.