short story
2 min
SPACE
João Cerqueira
October 26, 1957
Since they took me off the street, I have a better life. I no longer get cold or sleep in the rain. I eat good food. I took a hot shower and I feel clean like I've never felt before. People like me and treat me well.
It is true that I have lost my freedom, but I no longer have to run from one place to another.
They think I don't understand their language, but they are wrong. I understand some words, I understand the meaning of some sentences and, of course, I can read the expressions on their faces. So I know they are preparing me for something important. So important that on their faces, when I manage to overcome some test, not only joy appears, but an expression I had never seen before. Their eyes shine and, in some of them, even tears flow.
However, among them there is a woman who, sometimes, for no reason, cries when she hugs me. This I cannot understand. The others wept with joy. She cries with sadness. But these people are so strange, so different from others, that it's not even worth trying to understand them.
October 28, 1957
Suddenly, everything changed.
They started to treat me worse than when I lived on the street. They started to lock me up in small spaces for many days without even letting me out to do my business. They put me on machines that spin me at high speed and leave me in a daze. They make me listen to horrible noises. And they only give me a smelly mush to eat.
What do they intend with this?
I thought these people were good, but it turns out they are evil and crazy.
Why do they keep smiling when they hurt me?
I just wanted to get away and go back to the streets.
November 3, 1957
This morning, a strange thing happened. Instead of hurting me, they took me out of that horrible place where they kept me. One of the bad guys put me in his car and drove me to his house. I thought he was going to make me suffer even more, but after all, he wanted me to play with his children. And then I was happy again, as happy as when I ran with my friends in the streets. They were wonderful kids who petted me and hugged me and gave me cookies and milk. The bad man himself became good again and also gave me a big hug as if he was saying goodbye to me.
Now, when this strange man takes me back to the place where they hurt me, I remember those moments with his children so I don't cry. Their beautiful faces, their soft hands and their little voices calling to me "Laika, Laika".
Since they took me off the street, I have a better life. I no longer get cold or sleep in the rain. I eat good food. I took a hot shower and I feel clean like I've never felt before. People like me and treat me well.
It is true that I have lost my freedom, but I no longer have to run from one place to another.
They think I don't understand their language, but they are wrong. I understand some words, I understand the meaning of some sentences and, of course, I can read the expressions on their faces. So I know they are preparing me for something important. So important that on their faces, when I manage to overcome some test, not only joy appears, but an expression I had never seen before. Their eyes shine and, in some of them, even tears flow.
However, among them there is a woman who, sometimes, for no reason, cries when she hugs me. This I cannot understand. The others wept with joy. She cries with sadness. But these people are so strange, so different from others, that it's not even worth trying to understand them.
October 28, 1957
Suddenly, everything changed.
They started to treat me worse than when I lived on the street. They started to lock me up in small spaces for many days without even letting me out to do my business. They put me on machines that spin me at high speed and leave me in a daze. They make me listen to horrible noises. And they only give me a smelly mush to eat.
What do they intend with this?
I thought these people were good, but it turns out they are evil and crazy.
Why do they keep smiling when they hurt me?
I just wanted to get away and go back to the streets.
November 3, 1957
This morning, a strange thing happened. Instead of hurting me, they took me out of that horrible place where they kept me. One of the bad guys put me in his car and drove me to his house. I thought he was going to make me suffer even more, but after all, he wanted me to play with his children. And then I was happy again, as happy as when I ran with my friends in the streets. They were wonderful kids who petted me and hugged me and gave me cookies and milk. The bad man himself became good again and also gave me a big hug as if he was saying goodbye to me.
Now, when this strange man takes me back to the place where they hurt me, I remember those moments with his children so I don't cry. Their beautiful faces, their soft hands and their little voices calling to me "Laika, Laika".
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