Flash Fiction, Shorts

Al the Existential Allosaurus

Al was an Allosaurus, and he was deeply depressed.

Everywhere that Al went, people would shout and scream. They would cry, “Look, an Allosaurus!” And then everyone would come out and scream and cheer. The children liked him especially, and would climb his legs and swing on his massive tail, whooping for joy.

This did not amuse Al one bit. You see, Al wanted to be feared. He did not know exactly why he wanted this, just that it would be enough. The problem was that Al did not like the taste of humans, so they did not fear him. He had tried roaring at them, but they would just roar back in their weak voices and say, “What a magnificent beast!” To them, Al was a novelty. A treasure. They loved him, and he, in turn, hated them for it.

One day, Al became fed up with it all, and decided to leave all of the people behind. He trekked out into the country, scarring the land with gouge marks. He walked until he happened upon a farm. There, a herd of cattle stood, gently grazing on the green, grassy ground. Al let out a thundering roar that shook the rafters on the barn, but the cows did not even glance in his direction. In frustration, Al ate one whole and mauled two others, while the rest of the cows watched in blissful stupidity. Then, still angry, but with a fuller stomach, he stomped off.

Al wandered out to the middle of a dandelion field and sat down to gaze at the fluffy cumulus clouds as they drifted lazily across the sky. If he could not scare anyone, than what good was living anyway? His thoughts became nostalgic for a time long ago, when he would have been both feared and respected for being the one-ton killing machine that he was. Would that time ever come again? And would that be enough? Frankly, Al was not so sure.

Al stood up and walked down the hill, following the clouds in their drifting nature. He wasn’t sure where he was going or when he would get there, but he knew, somehow, that he had already taken the first step.