"We all have good and bad inside of us. It's what side we chose to follow that defines who we really are." J.K. Rowling

Enough about my past for a while. It would be too much to lay it all on you all at once. Let's get back to my death, 'cause that may actually be a little less depressing.

One minute the railroad track was beneath my feet, the thundering of a train, a blasting whistle–then nothing. Pitch blackness.

I watched this movie once when I was a kid—The Neverending Story. This thing called The Nothing rumbles through the world consuming everything in its path. In the end, The Nothing  consumes the world and there's nothing left but pure, black emptiness. This was similar.

Floating and spinning at the same time, I had no control over any of it, in fact, I was sure I was not connected to my body anymore. So this was death? Frankly, I was a little disappointed. Like a leaf in the wind, I spun and flipped and twirled in the utter darkness.

Suddenly, an image shot up from the blackness, almost like a movie screen at a theater. It was blurry at first, just fuzzy silhouettes flashing by. Even with the fuzziness, the images held familiarity—I found myself increasingly uneasy about what might appear on this "screen".

As if cued by my uneasiness, an image of Winter Rose suddenly shown brightly in front of me. It was a replay of the first day I met her at the animal refuge. The scenes flashed before me at lightening speed, yet somehow I could see, and remember everything.

There I was, a lanky eighteen-year old kid, gifted by my father's Aborigine side with dark thick hair and eyes. My chiseled features earned me a lot of attention from the girls, and that assisted my survival in those early years. I smirked fondly at myself, remembering that day well.

I'd taken up a painting job with a fellow screw-up, José, as a means of survival. That's what brought us to the Rose Family Animal Refuge that day.

The images flooded across the dark space in front of me. The refuge was a ways out of the city. The driveway was lined with massive oak trees that formed a tunnel of leaves all the way to the old grayish-white two story colonial that sat in a clearing at the end of it. With a picturesque tire swing hanging from an old oak branch, it looked like something out of Anne of Green Gables. Yeah—that's right,  Anne of Green Gables. Surprised? I'm full of surprises.

The image shifted in front of me, zooming in on the old, wooden front porch. Winter came bolting out of the old house, her arms full of folded blankets. An old black and white collie trailed after her, narrowly missing the screen door as it slammed shut behind her.

She skirted quickly around to the back of the house, the dog on her heels, excitedly wagging its tail. I remembered this moment well, it was the first time I'd laid eyes on Winter. She was hurrying to the animal refuge—to a dog who was about to give birth. 

I sighed, taking her in. Long dark legs in short cut offs, curly dark hair pulled into a long braid all the way down to her voluptuous...

"So many wasted moments and regrets." A small soft voice pierced into the nothingness, cutting off my thoughts; breaking the flow of memories. "Such a waste of a life."

A tsk-tsk-tsk  echoed in every direction, then silence. The images continued to dance in front of me.

"We should set this right." The voice continued earnestly.

"Oh, no you don't." A gruffer voice cut in, with a hint of exasperation."I'll have no part in it. What's done is done. Forget it and move on. That's the way it works here."

In a flash, the vision vanished. I called out to the voices, desperate to avoid being left alone. To my dismay, the spinning started again, and the absolute nothingness seemed to draw closer, closing in on me from all sides.

"But—it could be so different." The first voice pressed a few moments later, flooding me with relief. It was closer than before." It could work, he might—"

"If the Creator finds out," the second voice advised, but was interrupted by the first voice's determined cry.

"I don't care, I'm doing it!" it exclaimed.

I was falling. Tumbling through spheres of magnificently colored lights. All the colors of the rainbow passed by me in what resembled the northern lights. It seemed endless. Fearing I was doomed to drop forever, I gave up on struggling, and puzzled over the cryptic words of the unknown voices instead.

An abrupt, high pitched ringing began and grew in intensity until it felt as if I would explode. Some part of me was being ripped away. I struggled to hold on to it—and it to me—but to no avail. With a final ice-cold sensation of gripping terror—it was gone.

All at once, I felt I was part of a body again. I couldn't see anything, but it was no longer pitch black. It was as if my eyes were shut tightly in a lit room.

A cold draft of air hit me. I shivered violently. I suddenly felt soaking wet all over.

Something huge and warm began rubbing its way over me, nearly lifting me up with its force. My senses came flooding back, sharp and keen, almost overpowering.

The smell of cedar chips mixed with dirt and dog flooded through my nostrils. I desperately tried to force open my eyes.

Why couldn't I see? Was I blind? Was that what the first voice was so overjoyed about right before I was tossed down that spiraling hole of colors?

I was pressed down to the ground, and something was scrambling on top of me. I could feel all of my limbs, but something wasn't right. Everything I had moved, but it moved in a strange way. I was so weak.

An image of the train racing towards me on the tracks shot into my mind. The voices must have sent me back to life—really messed up.

Blind, broken—oh god! Why didn't they just let me die? What sort of twisted joke was this?

Panic set in momentarily before I was able to reign it back in and pull myself together. I tried once more to move, but whatever was climbing on my back was holding me down. Exhausted, I finally gave in to the sweet sanctuary of sleep.

I woke with a start as something slipped under me, and lifted me up into the air.

"He's okay, he's just the runt of the litter." A man's raspy voice spoke close to me. My ears tingled with the familiarity of his voice.

"He's not even trying to eat like the others," a girl replied. "There's something strange about him, I'm not sure he'll make it if we leave him with the other pups."

"He'll come around." The man said.

The girl sighed, and I was gently lowered back down onto something soft that smelled of cedar chips and wet dog.

Several minutes passed. I puzzled over my current predicament, the insanity of it all racking my brain. Something cold and wet nudged me. I strained to pry my eyes open unsuccessfully. There was a low growl, and the cold, wet thing pushed me over onto my back.

I wriggled around, trying to flip myself back onto my feet, fearing the growling thing would go in for the kill at any moment. After several failed attempts, I regained my footing. Something was yipping shrilly and pulling at my ear.

In the distance I heard a horse neigh and the pounding of hooves on the ground. Again, there was a growl and something warm and hairy moved close to me.

"Eat or you'll die." The soft voice of the spirit suddenly cut into my head. "I've given you a chance.  Don't  waste it."

"Stop meddling and let things be,  Aria." The gruff voice of the second spirit cut in with exasperation. "Haven't you gone too far already?"

"Just this one last time," Aria replied, and I suddenly found myself pushed into the warm, hairy thing. Sweet milk trickled into my mouth, exploding my taste buds. Suddenly starving, I drank—unashamed, until my sides hurt, and sleep overcame me once again.

***

Time dragged by. I drank, was stepped on, and occasionally growled at. Most of the time I just slept. Then, my eyes began to open. I could see my surroundings, blurry at first, then, gradually clearer. It was only then that I was forced to accept the entirety of what the spirits had done to me. I was a damn dog.

Judging by the looks of my dog mother, I was a border collie.  Mostly black, with a white stripe down my nose, and a white patch on my chest. Pretty cute, I suppose, as far as dogs go. Although totally useless.  All round and fluffy, with wobbly legs that couldn't quite be counted on yet.

As is customary with pets, we were all given names. My siblings were gifted with the names Winnie, Boon, and Hank. For some unknown reason—I still believe it was the work of those two devious voices—I was blessed with a lovely little name, Pickle.

***

As the days drew on, curiosity faded and anger consumed me. I cursed the two spirits—hoping they could hear me. What in the hell was I supposed to accomplish as a dog!?

Gee, thanks for this second chance on life, you twisted beings! To show my gratitude, I'll make sure to pee on an extra fire hydrant just for you!

Feeling sorry for myself, I crawled to the farthest corner of the room, and curled myself into a tight ball, blocking out my new world.  How long did dogs live? How many years was I destined to live this hellish nightmare? Maybe I'd wriggle my way outside and get trampled by a horse or something—end it quickly. 

The room we were housed in felt eerily familiar.  I could hear the excited yelps  of other animals echo through the walls. The floor was covered with a layering of fresh cedar chips, the smell pleasant enough. Soft blankets were piled on one side of the room where my dog mother currently slept.

In walked the girl whose voice I'd heard earlier. The sight of her brought me instantly to all fours, my tail wagging without my permission. It was Winter Rose! No way, it couldn't be her. The girl standing in the doorway was in her late teens. Winter would be have been thirty by now. This couldn't possibly be her. I tilted my head, staring at her—the resemblance was uncanny.

"Wow, you seem excited to see me, little Pickle!" the girl exclaimed, overjoyed at my reaction.

She crossed the room and scooped me up, stroking my head tenderly.

The other pups stumbled over,  yipping excessively and jumping at her heels, begging for attention.  She set me back down gently, into the chaotic swarm of fur and teeth below. 

"How are the border pups doing?"

The man I'd heard earlier stepped into the room. I froze, shocked. There was no question it was Winter's father, as he was all those years ago when I'd first met Winter.

I sat down, my head spinning. Not only was I a dog, but I'd traveled back in time. Back to the days when Winter and I—

I recalled the conversation of the two spirit voices. So, that was it? They wanted me to fix things with Winter. But why make me a dog of all blasted things? How was I supposed to right my wrongs as a dog!? Why not bring me back as myself!?

Damn those spirits! It was a twisted joke. It had to be. Sure, I might be able to bark at her and lead her to a kid in a well—recreate a real Lassie moment—but there was no way in heck she'd ever know it was me.

This story is dedicated to the author of one of my favorite stories on Wattpad. rskovach The Keepers.