Dispatch
This piece is featured in the May 2012 issue of Efiction magazine.
Dispatch
The bear was small
and black
and looked like a large dog.
It was even panting,
Gasping,
for air.
One, or perhaps both,
of its lungs
was probably crushed.
It was crawling over asphalt
towards the forest,
home,
bloody
and broken.
It fatally crossed paths with a car.
When the officer arrived on the scene,
he informed us
he would have to “dispatch”
of the bear.
Dispatch.
That word-- dispatch--
it clung
to my brain,
offending my soul.
Dispatch.
Like it was an order of food.
A phone call. A message.
A flight plan.
I looked at the suffering
dog like bear,
it’s useless legs,
bloody paws,
nose and mouth,
crawling futilely
towards home.
I heard a rattle
in its lungs.
And then,
with a well-placed bullet,
it was,
dispatched.
And the wheezing stopped.
Having been dispatched,
the young bear
looked small and weak.
It did not look peaceful.
all rights reserved. copyright Justin W. price Jan. 9, 2012
Thanks for reading.
PDXKaraokeGuy, also known as Justin W. Price, is the managing editor at efiction horror. Husband to andrea, father to two dogs. writer.poet.baseball fan. tattooed. He is am amateur theologian with a rabid sweet tooth.He resides in a suburb of Portland, Oregon.He has a poetry book available for Amazon Kindle, and also maintains a blog, FirstBlog. Please visit his profile page for more information. Thanks!
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