I Rescued a dog from a Homeless Man : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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On my way to work each morning, I’d pass the most beautiful, well-groomed and placid white dog at the top of the subway steps.

She’d sit patiently whilst passers-by cooed and complimented her. They’d throw seventeen cents at the homeless man by her side, and then talk in that goofy dog voice, like “who’s a beautiful girl, who’s a good girl, yes you are, yes you are.”

It was a pretty slick operation, by the homeless man. Get a cute dog, get rich. Those “people” always made me sick.

Once an elderly woman gave the homeless man ten dollars. No kidding. She handed it over with the biggest grin on her withered ruby-red lips, pressing it into hands covered in soil and sores, and imploring that every cent be spent on the dog, who’s “such a cutie-patootie, yes she is.”

My friend took a lot of convincing, over a good number of months, when I told him my plan of action. I had to offer him my body multiple times, before he said yes. Sometimes in life you have to make sacrifices.

The next morning my friend walked over to the homeless man and cheerily chatted about some sports game or other, whilst opening his wallet stuffed with singles. I remember the homeless man sounding nervous, even afraid, as if they didn’t wish to give anything about themselves away. 

Even when my friend took out a fistful of bills, it barely acted as a distraction. But I had to seize my chance. I snatched the dog with both of my arms, and bundled her into my van. I didn’t look back. My friend texted to tell me that the homeless man tried to crawl after me, and that he didn’t have any legs. I remember thinking “maybe he WAS a homeless veteran, after all! But then I gave him no more thought at all, and started driving to work instead. He’s probably dead. This all happened years ago.

The dog, who I renamed “Hope”, pined day and night for her old companion. Despite me giving the dog everything it could possibly want, it seemed disinterested in it’s new indoor existence. Every night it would cry and cry, really howling sometimes, whilst scratching at the door to be let out, and I began to wonder if the ungrateful bitch was worth all the effort I’d made.

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