"The Sound Outside Two Windows" by Chrissie Green

Chrissie is our third submission. You can read her blog over at Fill The Space With Words. She hasn't written there in awhile but I figure it's only a matter of time til she's back.

My name is Joe, I don't have a home. This neighborhood is my home. It's trees, it's houses, it's people, all of them. They are my home. I know everyone, well mostly everyone. They know me. They say hi to me as I walk by. Everyday I walk by, I walk through my neighborhood, my home. I make sure that everything is OK, everyone is safe, everyone is taken care of. I have a few favorites, like the little family at the corner house, I've sat and watched them all day before, the man and woman that live there, are always so nice to me, they have a little blonde girl who runs around the yard. She always smiles at me, she waves and squeals “Hi Joe!” every time I walk by. I also really like the small, brown hair woman who lives by herself, she always makes me snacks and talks to me for hours. She lives across the street from tall,lanky man's house though. I don't like him, I usually cross the street to avoid his house, that is how I met brown haired woman.
Today is no different than any other day. I was walking the neighborhood as usual, when I heard a sound. A strange thumping noise that caught my attention. It stopped me in my tracks, making me listen to it, making my mind take over my body as I slowly crept towards it. Before I knew what I was doing, I had wandered into someone's backyard, completely entranced by this noise. When the noise suddenly stopped I was instantly aware of my surroundings. I had walked into the tall lanky man's backyard, right into the middle of it. Looking around his yard, I noticed Its not a very big yard, but that's because he has a huge tool shed at the back of it, taking up most of the space. There is about 10 feet between the back of the house and this shed. I am standing in the middle of the yard, between two windows. A window on the back of his house, and the window on the shed. Between these two windows the thumping sound has stopped.
As I stand here waiting for it to start again, I feel myself starting to lose interest. I turn to leave the yard but am frozen again when the noise returns. It is deeply muffled, strangely familiar and definitely right below me. I lay down with my ear pressed to the ground. Thud. Thud. Thud. There is no rhythm, its erratic, but fierce.
The cracking sound of the back door of the house opening, snaps me to a standing position. I turn and run in the opposite direction. Quickly looking for a place to hide,the bushes next to the fence seem big enough,so I dart into them. Tall lanky man is walking out his back door. Same look as always on his face, a blank, empty one. The only expression is the slight irritation of the sun on his eyes. He always looks clean, and put together. Dark brown pants, with a white t-shirt that is always tucked into his pants. He walks out to where I was standing. In the middle of his yard, between the two windows. He can hear the sound too, he knows exactly where its coming from. He is not confused, or curious. He knows what it is and where it is coming from.
He listens to the thumping for a second, then scans around him. He's looking to see if anyone else hears it as well. His eyes pass me in the bushes, He doesn't know I am here. He looks satisfied that no one has heard it, so he steps to the side, his body now facing towards the shed. Instead of walking forward, he bends down. His knees pressing into the grass, and his hands lifting the grass, like it was a blanket. A large blanket of grass, covering a large concrete door. In the ground. He spins a combination into a metal lock attached to the door. It clicks and he slides his skinny fingers into the crack, lifting the door up and open. The smell hits me first, the smell of sweat, dirt, and urine, days worth, leaking up through the opening. It's so strong, it makes my eyes water. I have a pretty strong nose, but most smells don't bother me. This one, makes me want to run the other way.
Even though I know someone is in there, it still makes me jump a little bit when I see a bony, dirty hand slowly reach up through the opened door. Tall, lanky man is not shocked though, he knew this hand was in there. He expected it to reach up to him. To motion for help, for mercy. Tall, lanky man is not a man who cares, he is so empty, this does not concern him. With as little effort as he can possibly give, he pushes the hand back into the hole. He bends down further and I can see his lips moving. I can not hear what he is saying. His lips move slowly, but with purpose. Without being able to hear him, I can tell he means what he says. His face so still, so blank, all that moves, is his lips.
My crazy, beating, heart stops, when his face is no longer empty. He looks, startled, confused and angry all at the same time. It takes me a second to realize that his face has changed so drastically, because he is looking directly at me. Without even realizing it, I had started to crawl towards him. Wanting so desperately to hear what he is saying to the hand. I had crawled out of my bush, and within his line of sight. We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, neither one of us breaking eye contact. I can't move, I cant breathe, I can just stare. At tall lanky man's dead brown eyes.
His eyes break first though and, his body quickly moves. He drops the door back into the ground and I can only assume that he locks it again and puts his blanket of grass back over it. I don't know though, because as soon as that door hit the ground, I was gone. I am running as fast as I can, running until I start to forget why I am running. He didn't follow me, he was too old, too slow to ever catch me. Not that even if he was fast, he would run to catch me. No one is ever concerned about what I see, or what I will do. He wasn't angry that I had been watching, he was angry that he hadn't known I was there. I can tell tall, lanky man does not like to be caught off guard. He won't come to find me, track me down, to keep me silent. He has no fear that I will talk, that I will tell anyone. He feels safe, with his dirty secret, covered with the large,concrete door and his blanket of grass. But just because I can not talk, does not mean I can not stop him.
The next day I am waiting, laying here in the bushes. He will not know I am here, because he was sleeping when I crawled into them. I have been here all night, not sleeping. Just waiting. The only thing that could give me away is my growling stomach. Brown haired lady has not been at her home in a while. So I have not gotten any snacks. I will not let it get the better of me. I will save that bony, dirty hand in the hole. I will stop tall, lanky man, I just have to wait. I am determined to do so.
I wait so long that my eyes have betrayed me, and I have fallen asleep, so I almost give myself away when tall lanky man opens the back door again and it scares me so bad, I jump in the bushes. He does not notice though. He does not look my way. He walks out to his spot again, in the middle of the yard, between the two windows. The sound is much fainter today, the bony, dirty hand must not have as much energy to make as loud of a noise. Tall lanky man must do this every day because he does exactly the same as yesterday. He scans the yard, this time staring a little more intently at where we had met eyes yesterday. Again satisfied that he is alone, he steps to the side, bends down, lifting up his blanket of grass. This time when he opens the big concrete door, the bony dirty hand does not reach up to him, there is no hand. Tall, lanky man looks victorious, like he has won, and it makes me mad. He props the door open with a big metal stick, and I seize my opportunity. I crash out of the bushes, charging, running at him as fast as I possibly can. With all my force, I knock him into the hole. His head hit the concrete wall on his way down into the hole, and he does not move again. He lays there, and I can see the blood pooling underneath his head. Now I feel victorious, I am the one who has won. He wont be able to hurt another bony, dirty hand. He wont be able to hurt this bony, dirty hand anymore, the same hand that is reaching out to me now. Wait....its reaching out to me! The hand is OK, the hand is still moving, the hand is....the hand is attached to brown haired lady! Before I know what I am doing, I am jumping into the hole, and brown haired lady is wrapping her arms around me.
“Joe...” cracks her strained voice. She knows I am here to help her. So I snap to action. I stand up and begin to push her towards the top of the hole. I push so hard that she just barely reaches the top. I keep pushing, as she is pulling her self out.
“Joe...my hero” she cracks again from the top of the hole. “I...will be right...back, Joe. I will get help.”
And she is gone. I can not see her at the top of the hole. I am alone with tall,lanky bleeding man, in the hole in his back yard. I try to jump to reach the top of the hole, but I can't. It is too far away. I feel like it has been so long since she left. Where is help? My stomach growls again, I really hope she brings a snack. I am glad bony, dirty hand is OK, that my brown haired lady is OK. She is one of my favorites, after all. Maybe after she cleans herself, she will talk to me again for hours. That is my favorite thing ever.
“Over here, please come, over here!” Brown haired lady's voice still rasping , yells. She is back, with help, and a snack...I hope. A large, bearded cop appears at the top of the hole. He surveys what is before him, obviously something he has never seen before. Brown haired lady is right behind him, she reaches down into the hole for me, but the cop pulls her back out.
“Ma'am, you have to let the ambulance check you out. You have to be severely dehydrated!” he is holding her back and she tries with what little energy she has to push away from him and reach back out to me. It is a lost battle though, as another cop, this time a woman, wraps a blanket around brown haired lady and pulls her from my view.
“Just help, Joe! I want to make sure he is OK!” brown haired lady's voice is fading as she is being taken away. I hope they help her, I really like her. Another cop hands large bearded cop a ladder and he slowly lowers it down into the hole. He climbs down and picks me up. As he climbs half way up the ladder, another cop grabs me and pulls me out of the hole the rest of the way. They take me over to where brown haired lady is being looked at by the ambulance people. She is laying in a bed with wheels, and several doctors are hovering around her.
“Is Joe, OK?” She asks, her voice getting worse every time she speaks. One of her doctors walks over to me, and looks me over. She seems satisfied that I am OK.
“He looks fine, not a scratch on him.” Brown haired lady sags in relief, and it makes me happy that she cares that I am OK. My doctor walks back over to brown haired lady, and they all lift her bed up and into the back of a big red car. She sits up a little, as I walk closer to the back of the car.
“Can Joe please come? I don't want him to be left alone!” She starts to panic, and the nice doctor tries to make her lay back down.
“Joe can come. Come on, Joe” So I listen, and I jump into the back of the big red car. I walk over to sit next to brown haired lady's bed with wheels, and she reaches over and hugs me again. She still smells really bad, but its OK because I am glad she is OK. She strokes her hand across my face, and looks at me.
“Good dog, Joe. You are such a good dog. Thank you for saving me. “ She strokes my face again and closes her eyes. The big, red car begins to make a really loud noise, as it starts to move.

~

It's been a couple of weeks since I saved brown haired lady from dead,tall, lanky man. I have a different home now. Well a home within a home. I sleep on brown haired lady's bed, and she feeds me snacks all day long. She walks with me as I walk around my neighborhood. As I visit everyone else. She tells everyone about how I am hero, and how I am such a good dog. I really like living with her. She talks to me too, all day long, while she strokes my head. On today's walk, we stopped by dead, tall, lanky man's old house. There was a large truck in the backyard, it was pouring, what brown haired lady tells me is concrete, into the hole. She called him a bastard as we watched the hole fill up. Brown haired lady still seems scared every once in a while. Which is why I am always with her. I am glad that the concrete will make sure there is never that sound outside those two windows again.