Ryan Tullis
Title: The Tower



Albert awoke already too high to see more than specks, and too low to see the top of the gray and black spires. He pushed himself onto his paws (which ached quite badly), and shook his fur coat, stirring the blood in his head. His golden ears perked to hear any sounds, but no birds obliged his request. Only the wind throwing his coat here and there. So, he did the only thing he knew how: He began to follow the path up the tower.


It was the pass of a large cloud later that he saw a bat hanging upside down, the small body nestled against its own wings.


"Excuse me."


The bat rustled itself and fell back asleep.


"Excuse me!" Albert repeated, louder.


`The bat's head shot up, its wings thrown out on either side. "What!?"


"I need to know where I am."


"Do you know what time of day it is?" the bat yelled, not paying any attention to his question.


"No."


"Well. . . it's day!"


"I'm just trying to find out where I am."


"I don't know. Too tired. Go ask someone else." And before Albert could reply the bat already breathed the long airs of slumber.


So, Albert kept walking, his tail lulling behind him. How long had it been, now? He could see already floating lower. He thought to look down before he'd loose sight of anything. Walking over to the ledge with only a paws' length of raised protection, and slapping in his tongue from the strenuous walk, he glared out. Below him stretched a mass of undefined colors. Dots moving apathetically this way and that. Why was he here? And what was here?


"Be careful!" cooed a voice.


Albert almost jumped off the tower by accident. He snapped his head around and there perched a bird. A powerful, bristling white eagle. Its feathers spread out in front of him as if demanding some detailed consideration.


"You almost made me fall."


"Did I? I suppose I don't think about things like that." And with that the eagle jumped from its ledge and circled around over the bottomless sky. After a moment, he settled back down onto his little gray limb sticking out from the tower. 


"Where am I?"


"Straight to the point, aren't you, wingless one? No grace! That's what you lack. Tell me, is the sun hot on your back?"


Even in drowsing slumber, the sun managed to glare bright enough to make him squint. 


"Yes."


"Maybe I could flap my wings to give you a breeze? Of course, that would give you a chance to eat me, wouldn't it?"


"I'm an honest dog."


"Of course! Of course! How honest honest dogs are until they hunt you after the burst of lightning from their masters! Honest, indeed! But to whom? Certainly not to themselves, and most definitely not to me!"


Albert was growing tired of these games. And, truthfully, standing around didn't make him any fuller. "I need to know where I am," he stated more sternly.


"How would I know? I fly. This place is as easy to come to and go from for me as the food dish is for you, mutt. Besides, the sun is setting. I must go off and catch my prey. It is not handed or shot for me." The eagle stretched its great, white wings once more and shot off into the purple sky. Albert didn't remind the eagle it was a scavenger. Besides, what would a witty comment be but another wasted energy? Energies he was losing as the sun blanketed its face behind the clouds.


Again, Albert continued walking. He spent his free time noting the architecture of the heavenward tower. It was very old but new all at once. The cool stone would not give under his paws. Spires shot out from sides of the tower without purpose, pushing their silhouettes into the early night sky, only shaped by moonlight. How silly he must look. A dog climbing a tower, walking next to bird nests. However, he had nowhere else to go. Only rise. For the path back down ended from where he awoke. He didn't know why he was here, nor remember what it was he was doing before he arrived. Surely, his master Jim would think he ran away. Or gotten stolen. He would worry about him. It was easy when hungry on a suddenly cold night to think of fireplaces, ear scratches, and the soft words of the television talking about nothing at all. Jim would sit in his red cushioned chair polishing something that he would put away and not take out for another month only to polish again.


A cold gust hit Albert. His body convulsed and shivered involuntarily.


"Cold?" A deep voice said so slowly he was able to turn around and spy the creature before the one word had finished. A large tortoise, half the size of Albert himself, stood in front of him, blocking his path. Its head stretched around while its body faced forward.


"Yes. But where am I?"


"The same question, the same question," muttered the giant green-shelled animal before it continued its groaningly slow journey of one leg after the other.


"Do you know?"


"Do you know?"


Albert was taken aback by the question. "Know what?"


"How long your lifespan is?"


"I don't--"


"Fourteen years," it interrupted him as if he were an insolent child. "If you're lucky. I heard one of you furred things lived for twenty-five, once. I had a brother. Slow in the head, thought he was a sea-turtle. And he lived to be fifty."


"What are you saying?" Albert almost had to interject, since the tortoise took so long with words he felt he could have been five stories higher by now.


"I'm saying that you rush for answers because your life is so short. One hundred years. That's me. I'm one hundred years old."


"So?"


"I live longer than your masters. The tree and I. We are the overseers of this world."


"I just met an eagle that might disagree with you. Look. I need to know where I am. Where I am going."


"Isn't that simple? To the top of this tower."


Albert was certain he could have been at least eight stories higher by now.


"But why?"


"Find out when you arrive up there."


"Why will no one help me!?"


"You are an old dog, but a young tortoise. You don't count your years. I can tell. The way your skin sags under the mat of fur. You're twelve. You are old, child. Those bones must ache so badly in the cold. Just lay down," he continued hypnotically. "Just go to sleep."


Albert did feel tired. His muscles gnawed at him. But he couldn't lay down. He had to get to the top of the tower.


"Relationships," it droned over his resistance. "They're fickle, fading things. Go to sleep."


The dog's body lowered to the ground, his white belly scraping against the stone. The tortoise smiled a long big smile, turned around, and began on his way, apparently satisfied--until a large paw suddenly fell onto the hill of his shell. He turned his head around so slow that the dog had all the time to say what he wanted.
"I will reach the top of this tower. I don't know why I was sent here. But my master is waiting for me at home. I will not be cradled to sleep in this chill by a turtle. You talk slow, expecting me to slumber. But I will not. I cannot, because there are loyalties--Memories lasting longer than ourselves." Albert pushed down onto the hard, dry back, and launched himself several feet into the air. He hit the ground running in front of the turtle.


"Wait!" yelled the old, deep voice.


Albert looked back.


"If you are not dead, then you must be at some pinnacle decision in your life. Severe. Something so extreme it has brought you here."


There was a mutual nod between them. Then, with a push of paws, he shot back off under the moon's faceless head.


An extreme decision? What could be so wild? Albert wracked his brain for an answer, but everything drifted in a haze. He didn't know what it might have been, but he could see the end of the tower. His large, brown eyes could not leave it. An entrance loomed its dark shadow into the main body of the building itself. He moved forward, his tongue slapping the side of his cheek, and threw himself into it without pause. 


He was in slow motion. Or, possibly, everything was. He could not feel the ground beneath his feet. Instead, when he pushed down, he only floated a few inches up. Something came by him, fast, like an orange dagger with ribbons trailing the smooth body. A big, unblinking eye, the size of Albert himself, settled only steps away.


"A dog? Ahahaha! Now I have seen everything!"


It was a fish; and, when it slapped the water with its fins, Albert spun wildly in the current.


"Where are you going, dog?"


Albert couldn't speak. He knew he was under water, and the danger of what would come if he tried.
"Of course, of course. Limited to only land. Slave to man's desires."


Albert began paddling his way towards what looked like light. The fish swam beside him effortlessly.


"Dog. What are you doing here? Join me under these gentle waves. It is so easy to breathe! Open up your mouth! Let in some of this thick, wonderful air! What? You're not? Of course not! You're a dog! You can't breathe here!" it roared with laughter. "You lack these wonderful gills! I suppose you saw the turtle, did you? He should stay where he belongs, in a state of neither water nor land, never meant for either. Do you wish you were in a field? Do you want to make it home to your master? You are in a land from which you will return once you have returned. Do you know this?" Suddenly, the giant, orange monster shrieked, "Did you really think that I would let you go?!" 


And, with that, it twisted its body to angles unreachable by anything he had seen. It released its tension, slapping Albert aside so hard the air in his lungs turned to bubbles in front of him. 


"You are in my domain dog! You are wet in a land that is neither wet nor dry! Come, I have children to feed." 
The fish, with its gaping mouth, hurled itself toward Albert; but, with a push of his paws he shot around it. With all his effort, he kicked a hind leg into the never-blinking eye. Screaming in rage, the monster flapped wildly in the water, hitting Albert until the water became cement behind him, and then transforming into nothing.
When Albert awoke he was beside a square lake, on the familiar slippery, wet gray stone of the tower. His body was soaked. Internal water forced him to cough, then retreated back to its mother-pool. Pushing himself up, his muscles hurt all around him. His ears could not raise from the weight of the water, and from the weakness hanging like a net over him. His tail drooped down between his moving legs, and he was too tired to shake the clinging liquid off. Stairs rose not thirty feet away. He pushed down onto them and continued his long, tired journey up.


The twilight of morning settled on his nostrils. The sky bloomed orange and red, and the sun and moon greeted each other on either sides of the sky. The wind grew stronger. He didn't know how high up he was, but when a random gust would hit him, he'd stumble to the side. Not enough oxygen. He couldn't pant enough to keep up, he felt. His lungs were burning while his paws froze atop a large stone platform. The tower did not go any higher, and when he dragged himself to the ledge, he could not see the ground below. Instead, a valley of clouds loomed their infinite mounts off forever, as if they, themselves, had created a new world above the one he knew. 


Talons cracked on the stone in the wind, and he jumped around to face them.


Clad in its dangerous red cloak down to its oak boots and smirking muzzle stood a mane wolf in all its terrible 
glory. Albert's ears pulled back.


"A wet dog. How ironic when I am through with you," mocked the threat, its voice raspy.


"Wolf."


"Yes, yes. The only loner of all the canine species. We do not travel together. We do not trail behind humans. We keep our identity as the magnificent species that we are. I heard the fish scream. It sent shivers of excitement down my tail. I had no idea an old mutt like you could be so vicious."


"I'm a golden retriever. No mutt."


"All mutts are mutts when in the company of their greater. Gold is a soft metal. My fangs will bend it nicely."


"Why am I here, wolf?" Blood pounded in his head from the heave of effort in his pulsing muscles simply to stay standing. He had to stay focused. He knew it would be of dire consequence to show weakness in front of the beast.


"Why are you here?" it chuckled. "To join me in eagle turtle stew, of course! Perhaps I should remind you, as it seems you have forgotten. This is the place where we--not just you--go during a crucial moment. That snap of the neck. That crackle of bone." It slunk its body down as if to indulge in the thought. "Do you forget the trees so easily?"


A slap came across Albert's face. The tree line next to the lake. The wading ducks. A bark. They flee for the cover of clouds. The shotgun roars, one falls, more fly. Jim reaches back for another round of ammunition before the chase. Suddenly, a wild wolf stands between him and it. It is alone. So are they. The gun is still changing teeth. Albert throws himself between the two. They begin to dance.


Just like they had begun now, on top of the tower, circling one another like timid lovers. "Why did you lunge at him?" he demanded.


"Why did the scorpion sting the back of the frog as it swam him across the river?"


"You're sick."


"I am. And you will be, too, even if you win. And dead. And dead if you lose, mutt."
Before another breath of sky touched them they lunged at one another. The wolf snapped its foaming jaws at Albert's neck. He threw himself, too hard, to the side, stumbled, and fell onto the ground. The wolf hesitated not a moment before it pounced at the dormant dog. Albert kicked hard with his hind leg into the cheek wolf's cheek. It growled as it rolled with the blow. Albert stood to his paws and the wolf spoke, its eyes wild with unfocused motion.


"Do you know, mutt, how bad it hurts around my neck?" It limped awkwardly, dangerously towards him. "How much it hurts to swallow? How much I fear my own salvation?"


"You threatened my friend."


"Your master."


"Both."


"He will never feel the pain befitted to you. Let me allow you the pleasure of a quick death!" The wolf shot forward, again, its legs sliding against the ground as it charged with mad, uncontrolled speed. 


And Albert...


Albert could barely stay standing, much less ready himself to dodge. So, instead, he ducked his head when the strike came. The sheer momentum of the wolf sent them both flying back. He felt his body crack against the stone ground and he cried out. The wolf was shrieking and sliding beside him.


The two canines laid there, their faces only inches away from one another's. Panting their breath into the other's nostrils.


"Your master will put you down if you manage to kill me."


"Better me than him."


"You're a stupid dog," it snarled.


"You're an unloved beast."


And within a second's sliver they both pushed their remaining strengths out and snapped their powerful jaws into each other's throats.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim fell backwards at the wolf's lunge. He tilted his gun to vainly shield his body. Shying away from the strike, he heard the squeal. He looked back. The rabid wolf lay on the ground, motionless beneath the golden jaws of Albert. Red mixed in with his wheat coat. 


Jim stood up out of the dirt and walked over to him, cupping Albert's heavy head into his hand.


"Albert. . ."


The dog let out a coarse pant, its tail flopping as it tried to stretch, sprawled there, bleeding on its side.


"My old friend. You must have known."


The dog tried as hard as it could to push its head into its owners hand. It looked up at him tiredly, maybe even happily as Jim's right hand reached into the black slug case. He rested the dog's head on his knee while he filled the shotgun. Scratching Albert behind the ear, he cocked it, and raised to his feet.


"Oh, Albert," Jim kept saying over and over again. "You were truly a great friend."


And when he raised his shotgun into the morning air, it seemed as if Albert had, if a dog knew how, smiled.