Splash

by Andilyn Jenkins

In one of my creative writing courses, we discussed breaking through writer's block, and this activity has proved helpful to me, so I thought I would share. Write a scene from three varying perspectives: far away, medium, and close. This scene is a reoccurring one from my own childhood and one I cherish. I can still feel her wet fur on my lips. Ginger was my dog and a great friend. It's no exaggeration to say I miss her every day. So, enjoy.

SPLASH

Blue blobs wink in the sunlight next to each house. Eight-foot cinderblock walls separate each property from the next. Cars are parked in driveways but none on streets because of the HOA. Some backyards have green grass—others brown. Most have no grass at all. Every house has orange trees with white-painted trunks.

A white car is parked out front on the grey concrete driveway. A hazy pool of water glimmers at the end of the black asphalt street, but upon approaching, it retreats. Two orange trees stand out back, with two wooden swings between them. On the side of the house, next to old bicycles, a lawn-mower, and the black, blue, and green garbage cans is a yellow playhouse with a purple door. On the opposite side of the yard lies the pool, surrounded by an iron fence. A Yellow Labrador runs across the dead grass, pounces, and runs back. The dog runs again, but stops at the pool fence and barks.

A 14 year old girl stands on the back porch, playing with her dog, Ginger. The girl scoops up the sun-bleached, saturated tennis ball and chucks it across the backyard. It bounces off the cinderblock wall with a splat, leaving a slobbery stain in its place. The wall drinks up the saliva, leaving scorched blocks behind. Ginger chases the ball, catches it in her teeth and runs back, dropping the ball with a slobbery grin. Ginger’s tail wags and she hops up and down, waiting for the girl to throw the ball again. The girl picks up the ball and chucks it, but it soars over the pool fence and hits the water with a plop. Ginger runs after the ball, sees it in the water, saliva bubbles oozing from around it, and barks and jumps and whines. The girl walks over to the pool gate, Ginger at her heels. Ginger noses her way past the girl’s leg and belly-flops into the pool—splash—doggy-paddling her way to the ball. Ginger clutches the ball in her mouth, gallops out of the pool and shakes—beginning innocently with her head and ending violently with her tail. The girl’s shorts, shirt, and face drip with chlorinated water. Ginger runs over to the girl, drops the ball, hops, and runs again. The girl laughs and bends on one knee, welcoming the wet, smelly dog back. Ginger drops the ball, and the girl hugs Ginger around the neck, planting a dry kiss on the top of her wet head.