(The title is her full name )

I'm going to explain her name first. Dixie Doodle was originally her name, modeled after Yankee Doodle. But, she is now a certified dum-dum because she runs in front of all vehicles and tries to eat the wheels! Yes I realize we spell dum-dum weird, but the lollipops is delicious!

Anyway, my family lives on a farm with 5 acres of land. When I was about 8, we went to church, and when we returned, we saw a dog just sitting on our porch. She had a rusty chain around her neck and a bunch of scratches. Apparently, one of our neighbors had chained up this poor dog and wouldn’t feed it. (They are no longer our neighbor) We took the dog in and named her Dixie. Dixie is a German Shepard and she lives up to her name! She herds our horses all the time! We still have that rusty chain hanging on our chicken coup, kind of reminding us where she came from.

A couple of years later Dixie was now 5 years old. We were sleeping and it was about 2:30 am. My brother woke up to little yips of dogs. He was really confused and woke up my parents. So… my dog had been pregnant and we didn’t even know! She had mated with our neighbor's dog (A Great Pyrenees) and had 9 gorgeous puppies. Unfortunately, one of them died because it didn’t eat. My family and I buried it with a headstone that said trianglehead. (We named them after their distinct features) We obviously couldn’t keep 8 puppies, so we raised them for 5 weeks and then kept one. We gave the rest to different families we trusted. The one we kept, her name was Pepper. We kept her for a while until she started running into the street and the sheriff kept getting called. Anyway, I love my dog so much, and I hope she lives for so long.

I don't know what it is with us and finding animals, but my mom found a newborn cat in a parking lot and rescued it, so if you want to hear that story please like and leave a comment! ❤️

“Hey,” Kyrin said, leaning against the door frame.

I yelped, having just gotten out of the shower. I was so glad I had a towel nearby.

“What do you want Kyrin?” I said, rather annoyed.

Things have been peculiar since he and his mom moved into our house. His mom’s name is Sheila and she is my late mom’s sister. Kyrin has always been a bizarre kid, being 2 years younger than me.

Kyrin snaps his fingers in front of my face, jolting me back to the present. “Hey, earth to Em!”

“Don’t call me that,” I said angrily. Only my mom ever called me that.

He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

He stepped forward and spoke in a heated whisper. “Don’t scream.”

Of course, I tried to, but he was too quick. One minute I was leaning against the counter, the next he was pinning me on the floor, smothering me with his sweatshirt.

I kicked and fought but he was too strong. I felt something pressing against my back and realized I had a pen in my back pocket! Before he realized what I was doing, I grabbed the pen and stabbed his leg with it. He grimaced in pain for a second but recovered quickly. He then slapped me so hard that I passed out.

The next thing I remembered was being jostled around, and the smell of gasoline. I finally opened my eyes and realized I was being tied to a post like a witch in the 1600s! Kyrin was pouring gasoline at my feet and whistling while he did! A group of his friends stood around him watching. I screamed at him, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Kyrin answered with a wink, the little bastard. “We need a sacrifice, and you're the perfect one! Hot, Perfect hair, Perfect body!” He licks his lips as he runs his hands along my apparently naked body. Fuck, I forgot he joined that dumbass cult last year. Now I was really scared of what he was going to do.

“Kyrin please,” I pleaded, trying not to cry. “Don’t kill me, what will Sheila think?”

“Fuck Sheila! She didn’t care enough to get a job, to love me!”

His hands shook with the match in his hand.

“I’m sorry Em. I’m truly sorry.” Then he dropped the match and the whole world went up in flames.

------------

I realized his mistake before he did. His bindings were made of rope and very easy to push down, just not easy to untie. While his back was turned talking to his friends about the protocol, I bent as low as I could to the rising fire and burnt off my wrist binds. I then untied my other bindings but didn’t realize that I would fall straight into the fire. I screamed in pain as my body convulsed with the heat. Kyrin whipped around and laughed, seeing me struggle. He leaned forward toward me and whispered, “I’m not sorry.”

I gritted my teeth and dragged him in with me, using his momentum to pull myself out. I ran, ran for so long. Could have been minutes, could have been days. All I know is that I ended up at my house, which was empty. Dad had gone on holiday two days prior with my aunt for a month-long trip.

--ONE WEEK LATER--

I had been hiding out in my house for a week now, praying that Kyrin wouldn’t come back.

It was 8 am and I was finally starting to relax, thinking that he had given up. Suddenly I heard a loud knock on my door. A sudden terror enveloped me as I imagined seeing his face again. I went downstairs slowly, dreading my fate that lay beyond that door. I took a deep breath and opened the door. To my shock, there was a policeman there! His badge read Tarrant County Police Force, and he was armed with a gun! “Hello ma’am, are you Miss Emily Tillan?” he said in a gruff voice. “Yes, what do you need officer?” I said confused. Had there been trouble with my dad’s flight home or something? “You’re under arrest for the torture and murder of Kyrin Sagan.” He said pointedly, already putting handcuffs on me.

What? I couldn’t have heard him right, Kyrin tried to kill me! But then I remembered pushing him into the fire to save myself. The police wouldn’t understand what I went through. There was only one thought in my head. Get out. Get out. Get out. So I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I could still hear the labored breathing of the policeman chasing after me. As more men joined him, I thought, oh shit he called for backup.

I was still running fast, but not fast enough. I turned down an alleyway and came to a halt. There was a door in the middle of a supposed dead end! That couldn’t be right, I was sure this didn’t lead anywhere. But, my curiosity got the best of me and I pushed open the reddish door and saw a window. I immediately ran toward it looking out to see if the police had followed me. Thankfully they hadn’t and were splitting up to look in different areas.

I heard a groan of pain behind me and I froze. I knew that voice well. Slowly I turned around and to my horror, I saw Kyrin. He was sitting up on a cot clearly not fully recovered from the fire but his eyes were full of rage. His cult members were standing right behind him, with his left-hand man Angelo holding a longsword that was already stained with blood. I backed up against the wall feeling for the door handle that I came through earlier. All I felt was bricks and plaster. Shit, Shit, Shit! “You’re not going anywhere,” Kyrin said with a smirk.

Jail. Jail would be so much better than this.

Sometimes I feel forgotten,

A fly beneath a shoe.

Sometimes I feel forgotten,

And sometimes it makes me blue.

Sometimes I feel love,

But a broken heart always follows.

Sometimes I feel love,

But it always makes me hollow.

Sometimes I feel pride,

Not very often though.

Sometimes I feel pride,

And become like a pro.

Sometimes I feel enjoyment,

Although it is rare,

Sometimes I feel enjoyment,

Even without a pair.

Sometimes I feel content,

With my situation then.

Sometimes I feel content,

But then I pick back up my pen.

Sometimes I feel grateful,

When people are nice,

Sometimes I feel grateful,

But it never happens twice.

Sometimes I feel gross,

And want to crawl out my skin.

Sometimes I feel gross,

From my toes to my chin.

Sometimes I have anxiety,

And then I can’t breathe.

All my emotions balled up,

As I inwardly seethe.

Sometimes I am enraged,

Trembling with fury.

Sometimes I am enraged,

And battling my inner jury.

Sometimes I am scared,

And see monsters in the dark.

Sometimes I am scared,

Then they appear at the park.

Sometimes I feel caring,

And want to help.

Sometimes I feel caring,

But I am as cowardly as kelp.

Sometimes I feel pain,

And don’t know what to do.

Sometimes I feel pain,

But I’ll always have you.

Sometimes I am broken,

When people are enraged.

Sometimes I am broken,

And I’ll stay broken ’til I’m aged.

Sometimes I feel,

And sometimes I don’t.

And sometimes--

That’s okay.

Sometimes I feel forgotten,

A fly beneath a shoe.

Sometimes I feel forgotten,

And sometimes it makes me blue.

Sometimes I feel love,

But a broken heart always follows.

Sometimes I feel love,

But it always makes me hollow.

Sometimes I feel pride,

Not very often though.

Sometimes I feel pride,

And become like a pro.

Sometimes I feel enjoyment,

Although it is rare,

Sometimes I feel enjoyment,

Even without a pair.

Sometimes I feel content,

With my situation then.

Sometimes I feel content,

But then I pick back up my pen.

Sometimes I feel grateful,

When people are nice,

Sometimes I feel grateful,

But it never happens twice.

Sometimes I feel gross,

And want to crawl out my skin.

Sometimes I feel gross,

From my toes to my chin.

Sometimes I have anxiety,

And then I can’t breathe.

All my emotions balled up,

As I inwardly seethe.

Sometimes I am enraged,

Trembling with fury.

Sometimes I am enraged,

And battling my inner jury.

Sometimes I am scared,

And see monsters in the dark.

Sometimes I am scared,

Then they appear at the park.

Sometimes I feel caring,

And want to help.

Sometimes I feel caring,

But I am as cowardly as kelp.

Sometimes I feel pain,

And don’t know what to do.

Sometimes I feel pain,

But I’ll always have you.

Sometimes I am broken,

When people are enraged.

Sometimes I am broken,

And I’ll stay broken ’til I’m aged.

Sometimes I feel,

And sometimes I don’t.

And sometimes—

That’s okay.