This is my first blog post on my new blog.
I'll basically use this to talk about whatever it is i feel like.
Today i'm gonna share a short story with you all, titled "Dogscape".
i awaken. i don't know it at the moment, but this day marks my fourth straight year of existing in the dogscape.
i push myself up from the carpet of writhing, twitching dogflesh beneath me and rise to my feet,
stretching in the morning sun. it took me a while to learn to balance on the layer of solid dogs that now blankets every
inch of solid ground, but nowadays i can walk and run as easily and as fast as i ever did on soil or concrete.
this was a city once, i think, though which one i can't remember. i only owe my guess to the massive pillars of dog
s jutting into the sky, perhaps ancient buildings now completely filled and overgrown by canine biomatter. i climbed one
once, sinking my fingers and toes deep into the dogwall to gain purchase, and after hours and hours of climbing was
rewarded with an incredible vista - fur and eyes, panting tongues and wagging tails, hugging the contours of the
once-barren land and stretching in a single aeomebic mass farther than the eye can see.
now i don't do that, though. now i merely go about my day. i hike to the Gardens, where the dogplants sprout up in
bizarre shapes from the floor of the dogscape, and reach up to pluck the fetal puppyfruits right off the wagging,
energetic branches. i bite into the succulent flesh, the juices dribbling down my chin and dripping down to be reabsorbed
by the groundflesh, and revel in the savory taste. i'm thirsty, so i range until i find one of the Mothermounds, and there
i suckle at a teatpatch until i've had my fill of milk. sometimes i see other humans around me, as well-adapted to the
dogscape as i am, but i barely acknowledge them, say nothing. what, after all, is there to say? the world is different
now - what meaning would our old words have?
Thats the first half.
I'll post the rest on a later date.