The Meadow 143 Cleave Drew Cannon The cheap bottled wine from the liquor store down the block, had been thrown and shattered downstairs. Parent’s distant slurred screams accompanied her crawl through a cracked window. Trembling fingers wormed their way around her army green pack’s thick nylon straps laying slack over shoulders. She idly gnawed at the stud imbedded within her bottom lip, as she scrutinized over the backpack, to ensure everything was there for the third time. Sparing a brief glance to the metal and punk band pins, her gaze was drawn to the rainbow flag hidden under a fold, from parents’ narrowed eyes and lips cast, in their all too familiar snarl. The crescent moon smirked as she clambered down the aged fire escape’s rusted metal. Her skateboard hummed and clacked past plastic bottles and the crumbling asphalt. She grinded to a halt as something crawled out. The dog limped behind the corner, a paltry shadow hiding from unknown atrocities only its single clouded eye could know. Fur, matted and greasy, had cigarette burns intermixed with dried blood clinging to flattened ears. It didn’t dare a glance at her, trembling with tucked tail into the darkest corner of the alley. In her curious approach, it startled and yelped, mourning to anyone to spare suffering. In her hesitation, it scurried away, gingerly limping on one back paw. The creature couldn’t be saved.
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