Stray

 The writer was enjoying a nice stroll when he spotted the story on the side of the road. Cute little thing, he thought. Looks hungry too.

He gently picked up the story, which looked happy to have been noticed. When he got home he gave the story a bath and a little food. The story came alive and started happily jumping around the living room.

“I think I’ll keep you,” the writer said with a smile.

By the end of the week he was surprised to see how big the story had grown. And with this increase in size came an increase in appetite. So the writer started cooking bigger meals and sharing them with the story. When he went out with friends or family he made sure to leave enough food behind.

Eventually the story got a little too big and started looking a lot less cute. Scary even. Other people seemed less interested in visiting and the writer became less interested in anything but his growing friend. The story became so demanding for food and attention that eventually the writer found every waking minute of his time was dedicated to the story. But he could not keep up with the growing appetite and need for constant attention. He fed and played with the story from morning until late in the night, but he was running out of money, food, and energy.

One day when the story got so big that it looked like his house could no longer contain it, he decided he would cook less. This story needs some regulation. A diet. The story whined and growled at the writer but the writer stayed firm. That night the story was determined to get its meal one way or another so it broke down the writer's door and ate his legs. And as the writer bled out in his room, all he could think was, who will take care of my story now…