The Beast of Suburbia

The night was a heavy one, drowning and suffocating all who had the nerve to stand in it. A comforting mass of warm houses huddled together, shivering away from the sharp cold and into each other. The result was a generally warm ball of light and warmth, but for the occasional lightless cottage. Of these, their neighbor's lights spilt across their lawns and porches, stretching the night into shadows and colors into dusty patches of tired blues and greys. It was between and around these houses that the falling snow was obvious- the whole effect was actually rather dead as opposed to peaceful, and the atmosphere hung glumly around the entire cluster of otherwise cozy homes.
But around the bundle of homes, the night ruled. No sane beast would willingly wander the darkness. The rabbits were all tucked safely in their warrens, the deer in some cozy bed, and even the bears and foxes hidden away in some warm den. Each animal kept to themselves that night, restlessly sucombing to dreams and nightmares of their own.
All beasts save one. Some people clamimed that she'd maybe been a pet at some point, pampered and humble. Beneath the wild matting of white fur, her skin was sensitive and unscarred. Others claimed such was ridiculous, and instead pointed out the gaping maw and thrice-broken tail, telling stories of how she'd instead been the product of a wolf and a bear, or other such things. But none of this could be confirmed, as no one had ever dared to come so close to the infamous beast. With their lives at stake, curiousity seemed to ask to high a price to pay.
Tonight, the canine walked alone. The snow fell softly onto her back, hesitating for a few seconds before melting into the mass of white fur. The legends the villagers told had indicated she'd always been there. This was impossible of course, but looking at her, you wouldn't have a reason to believe otherwise. The neck, head, and haunches of the thing were absoloutley massive- in truth, she resembled more of a lion than a dog. The length of the dog's body was artfully muscled and lean in turn, with the hint of a youthful pink belly underneath. Her teeth were sound and pristine, and her muzzle was still of the purest ivory.
But delicatly spread across her head were dozens of scars, as varied as the colors in a painter's cabinet. No two were alike, and not a single one of them so much as hindered her. She was another breed of predator all on her own. The huge, ax like head and jowels held an epic pair of heavy jaws, with a suprisingly delicate tongue folded out neatly between them. Dried, crusted blackened gore hung on the collar of the dense mane of fur around her neck, falling from just below her chin to the inside of her forelegs.
Under that lay the torn remenants of something blue, grimly hanging on despite the odds. Had the villagers braved themselves enough to look closer, they would have found that she truly had been tamed at some point, maybe raised in a home much like the others. The collar had been exhausted, faded, shredded, dyed, and dirtied so many times that it's copper nameplate was all but invisible. Just chicken scratches remained, spitting out chunks and reminants of a name- "NEl_Y."

Tractor

All in all, it was a monster of a machine. Despite having been carpeted in weeds, bird dung, and blackberry bushes, it was still a beast of a tractor. The thing held it's self with an undeniable amount of pride for a pile of rusty scrap, and it made sure the whole world knew it too. And underneath the chipped paint and punctured tires, it was an impressive tractor- more or less the sort of thing that either made you shudder in disgust or made you fall to your knees in awe. I was not the sort to grimace in horror at rust and old oil stains. The tractor might as well have been manufactured in Atlantis or El Dorado. To me, it was a god.

And for thirty-three dollars and seventy-five cents, it was my god. My hands slid for my wallet.

Submitted to Untied Shoelaces of the Mind (R),

Short Story Ideas

• The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
• May Colvin/Jack Duggan/etc. poem
• Assassin targets older political man- daughter falls in love w/ him, but manipulitive? Rennascance era
  
  300 years from now, renagade in desert, away from controlling, abusive goverment. ("mockingjays")
  Find random girl in desert, barely remembers anything, but they find out she was used as a gineau pig by the goverment for "expirements"- now posess "magical" talents.
  
• Kodi in Paddy's Green Shamrock Shores