Story Therapy

   Image by AI Sometimes the smallest hearts carry the biggest hope. Story: S A Spencer Author of Popular Fictions :  The Pink Mutiny ,  The Black Waters ,  Dream In Shackles He took off my collar. Then my leash. I wagged my tail anyway, because he said my name softly — and then he said, “I’m sorry, boy.” I knew that word. Sorry. It meant something bad had happened, or was about to. I nudged his hand with my nose, asking what he meant. He didn’t answer. He just stood up, walked back to the car, and closed the door. I barked once, a small, confused sound. He didn’t look at me. The engine started. I ran after the car, paws burning on the road, crying out in little yelps. He didn’t slow. He didn’t turn. The car disappeared around the corner, and the smell of him faded into the wind. I waited. Because that’s what dogs do. We wait.           I walked along the footpath, sniffing for anything familiar. Nothing smelled like home. My throat felt...

 Image by AI A Tender Tale Of Abandonment, Misunderstanding, And Unexpected Redemption Story: S A Spencer Author of Popular Fictions :  The Pink Mutiny ,  The Black Waters ,  Dream In Shackles I didn’t understand why the humans were shouting. All I knew was that the gate had slammed behind me, and the world suddenly smelled different — sharp, metallic, full of fear. I pressed my nose against the bars, waiting for my human to come back. He always came back. He wouldn’t leave me here. Not in this strange place with barking that sounded like crying. A man in a blue shirt walked towards me. The sun was behind him, turning him into a glowing shape. He bent down, lifted me gently, and whispered, “You’re safe now, mate.” Safe. Now. The words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I didn’t know who he was, but something in his voice felt bigger than him. Like the sky had spoken through him. Like he wasn’t just a man — he was something more. Maybe this was God. Mayb...