I had said before that I intended to post some fiction on this blog. I haven’t done so until now because I really hadn’t found a story I felt like writing. That changed tonight, and so I have a story to share with you.
I’m going for a sort of supernatural thriller with this one. I’m a fan of H.P. Lovecraft, and while I love the sense of dread he injects into his works, I’m not sure I could copy his sense of scope. Instead, I elected for something a little less cosmic. I hope it works.
This is a work in progress. Even after I post this I will lately make changes to it. I did proof-read it before putting it up, but only barely. Apologies in advance for the rough quality of the work.
Decay Dogs
I lay now in a hospital bed. For this I am grateful, since the alternative would be for me to lie on a coroner’s table. The way my previous night has gone, that is still possible.
Last night my body was subjected to the stresses of terror and trauma. What I experienced will haunt me for the rest of my life, no matter how short it may be. If death comes, it may be preferable to sleep, for when I sleep now I dream of eyes. God, those eyes.
Last night I went drinking. It is the heart of an August heat wave, when New England summers are at their most humid and brutal. Even at night the muggy air holds on to heat like a miser, making any home without benefit of air conditioning like sleeping in a wet dishrag. My own unit had broken, and rather than sit sweltering I had gone into the night to spend time with my fellow man and some whiskey over ice.
I was not scheduled to work today, and so i stayed out until beyond last call. I was pleasantly intoxicated, but not so drunk as to be a liability to myself. I had been smart enough to leave the car at home, and had simply walked the mile or so to my favorite tavern.
As the bar closed I wasn’t at all tired. I knew from experience I would be awake for several hours yet, and so I decided to take the scenic route home. The moon was full and unusually red, the color of a bright penny. The sky was filled only with patchy clouds and the sort of haze any humid night brings with it.
I walked for a while in the general direction of my home. The moon lay behind me, lighting my way. Ahead of me stood the carcass of a half-finished hotel silhouetted against the lights of the next street over.
The streetlights that had been back-lighting the hotel flicked out as I got closer. The orange light of the moon revealed a half-finished structure, un-clad walls revealing slabs of foam insulation intermittently covered by tattered housewrap. It has sat that way for some time, as the developer who had hoped to finish it ran out of money.
During the day it looks forlorn. When it was new it looked to have all the potential of things being built. Now it looks pathetic, a forgotten symbol of an over-ambitious business plan.
At night it looks sinister. Light from the moon and from passing cars gleams off of broken glass where stones have been thrown through the windows. The torn housewrap blows in the breeze like the worn clothing of some sort of specter.
I have been afraid of the dark all my life. I would have been inclined to give the building a wide berth had I not been cheered by the recent company of good friends and strong drink. In my boldness I paid it no heed and strode forth.
From the other side of the building came a sharp, wheezing cry and a sudden odor. It was a familiar scent, the pungent stench of a skunk’s spray. I altered my path slightly to swing wide of the corner of the building so as not to draw the skunk’s ire. i had no desire to meet the same fate of whatever had just angered the thing.
I rounded the corner, keeping an eye out for the rodent. Instead of one animal I was greeted with two. Behind the building, in the shadows cast by the building a small terrier stood over the mauled form of the skunk. In the half-light of the shadow I could make out the black and white of the skunk’s fur, as well as the crimson red of its blood that streamed from a gaping wound in the skunk’s neck. A similar trail of red drooled from the terrier’s jowls as it looked up at me.
I stood transfixed for a moment. I was somehow hypnotised by the sight, even despite the near overwhelming stench given off by the skunk’s spray. The terrier looked at me, and then off at something else in the direction from which I had come. After the pause it went back to its grisly meal.
The small dog ate, complete with squelching noises as it bit into its prey. It occurred to me to wonder what other thing the dog had been looking at. I cast a look over my shoulder to see the shape of another, larger dog behind me. It was completely still. By the light of the moon I could have mistaken it for a statue had I not just walked through the space it was currently occupying.
This dog was no purebred. Its coat was shaggy in places and bare in others from mange. Is hide was scarred and seeping wounds in its flanks matted the fur beneath them with old blood and other fluids. It was narrow but muscular like a doberman, but it’s snout was short and broad. By the light of the moon its eyes were pools of red, the color of blood. They had no iris and no pupil, but were still somehow possessed of hellish intelligence. Around the mouth was a foam of spittle, made pink either by the light of the moon or by something else.
The dog and I stood staring at each other. It seemed to be staring directly into my eyes. I averted mine, not wanting to meet this animal’s gaze and somehow provoke it. It began to pad towards me, head low in the posture of the hunter, but still completely silent.
I took one step backwards, then another. I raised my hands wide to it, to indicate I was no threat. It kept coming, still holding that same threatening posture. Still it did not growl or bark. The only sound it made was its over-long claws clicking on the concrete of the sidewalk.
I was walking backwards as quickly as I could without tripping over my own feet a this point, desperate to get away from this monster. I passed under a street light, and it came on, catching my attention. I glanced up at it, briefly distracted, and when I looked back at the dog it had a companion.
This one was a boxer, in even worse shape than its partner. Its flanks were matted and torn as well. More than that though the moon threw stark shadows into spaces where the outline of its ribs showed through its skin. A tooth from its lower jaw poked through a rent in its jowls.
Its eyes were also a bright, liquid red. It joined the first hell-hound in stalking towards me. They both stayed maddeningly silent, the click-clicking of their claws against the ground somehow more terrifying than any baying hound or snarling attack dog.
I turned to flee, adopting a measured pace to hold off a panicked chase. As I did so however I found another form emerging from a tall stand of grass in a nearby vacant lot. It was monstrous, nearly the size of a pony.
I hesitate to call it a dog. It might once have been part wolf, but no part of what then stood in my path was ever domesticated. Were it not for the pointed ears and narrow snout I might have mistaken it for a black bear.
Its fur was long and brushy and dull black, except for patches where mange showed bare skin. Unlike the other two this one had no open wounds on its hide whatsoever. Only a single scar showed, travelling down the face and muzzle of the beast in a white line of raised flesh that poked through the fur. It was jagged, like a lightning bolt. Its eyes were the same unnatural red as the others.
One of the patchy clouds slid over the moon. It's shadow changed the moon from a bright penny to a tarnished one. The streetlight over head flicked out. In the resurgent darkness the eyes of all three shone as though from an infernal flame.
There was no time for a measured pace. It was time to run. I fled down a side street, listening intently for sounds of pursuit. For a brief instant I thought that they had not chosen to follow me. A moment later though I heard the clickety-click of their claws on pavement through the gasping of my own breath and the pounding of my pulse.
I shoved my hand into my pocket as I ran, grasping for my cell phone. This was clearly beyond anything I could handle. It was time to call for help.
I jabbed my fingers at the numbers on the phone as I ran. I was about to finish dialing when my right foot plunged into the depression of a storm drain. I stumbled, crashing to my knees.
The phone went flying from my hands. It careened through the air and shattered as it came down to the ground. My hope of salvation was, literally, in pieces.. The clickety-click of my pursuers was drawing closer and closer, so I threw myself to me feet and continued to run.
I risked a look over my shoulder as the beasts came barreling up behind me. The cracked screen of my phone was still glowing, and I saw the boxer-creature swerve to avoid it. It seemed repulsed by the thing, or rather by the weak light that it cast.
Desperate for some sort of escape I sprinted onward, looking for some source of light that I might find safety in. All of the lamps were out on this street, but as I looked back towards the main thoroughfare I thought I spied a bit of illumination.
The dogs were still behind me and still growing closer. I expected that I would feel their breath on my back at any moment, but so far as I could tell they weren’t even panting. I wondered if they were toying with me.
I saw the a pair of headlamps from an oncoming car, and hoped then that I might be saved. I waved my arms at the driver frantically, only to feel a searing pain in my calf as one of the dogs tore into my leg and brought me down. Despite my desperation I tumbled sideways behind a line of bushes.
They were on me in an instant. I rolled on to my back to try to protect myself with me arms, but was rewarded only with bites deep into them from the smaller two dogs. They clamped on and shook their heads back and forth, rending my flesh. The larger beast stood back from the others. I could swear that I saw a look of amusement in his eyes while the other two tore into me.
The car that had been approaching passed, and I truly knew despair. I knew that I would die then. I knew that I was nothing more than meat to the pack of monsters.
I knew that they were toying with me. They savaged my arms. Their claws tore great gashes into my face and neck. Their mouths tore chunks of flesh from my chest and legs, but not once did they try to finish me.
Not once did they try to rip out my throat. Not once did they tear into my abdomen. Not once did they strike at places that would give me the quick release of death.
I don’t know how long that trio of demons tortured me. It might have been mere minutes. It might have been an hour. All I knew then was pain and hatred as they delighted in my misery.
As I lay there one car passed by, and then another. Each time the mangy pack would leave off tearing at me just long enough to crowd in behind the bushes, so as not to be seen. When I saw the lights of the third car near, I waited for them to pause long enough to crowd in, and then I took my chances.
Somehow I managed to force myself to me feet, and over the hedge. I want to tell you that I was able to run, or even jump to espace. What I did instead was to fall and stumble through a tiny gap in the hedge. Somehow I made it into the road, and saw two last things before giving in to unconsciousness. The first was the heavenly light of the oncoming car’s headlamps. The second was the horrified face of the driver as her car hit me.
I don’t remember what happened next. I know that the stunned motorist was quick enough to call for an ambulance to save my life. I have been told by my doctors that I was still speaking on the ride to the hospital. She told me that I raved about “demons” and “wolves” as I was brought to the hospital.
I will be here from some time. Even aside from the injuries I am being treated for I must also undergo a very painful series of injections to treat me for rabies. The whole town is in a panic now, looking for any animal that might be rabid so that others don’t share my fate.
I know better. No mere disease created that group of monsters that attacked me. They aren’t animals, at least not anymore. They might be demons, or evil spirits, or even possessed by the Devil himself, but they’re certainly not rabid. They knew and understood every single thing they did to me, and they delighted in it.
They’ll come looking for me again too. People think that I am crazy when I say it, but it’s true. They will come for me again as surely as the sun rises in the east.
I know this because of what I’ve seen. There is an empty lot across from the hospital I am now in. Last night when I awoke from a nightmare I looked out of my window at it. What is empty during the day holds something a night: a pair of glowing red eyes..
