First it Took my Dolly

Part 1 of 1

This was supposed to be it. It was so good at first. There was no way she or I could've known about this, though. Far back as I can remember, she always talked about it, a cabin in the mountains I grew up in. She knew I came from the smokies, and I think she always wanted a part of that. She knew that the city was never for me. God it should've been.

So, here and there, she mentioned it. I never took her too serious though. I'd always hassle her about it. "What happens when it gets to be the winter, and you're a freezing your tail off?" I'd say, or, "What about when you see your first black bear?"

She'd smile that damn determined grin I loved so much, and then she'd say it with a laugh, "You can handle it."

It was always a fun thought. It kept us entertained, and it gave her a chance to ask about how I grew up. She liked hearing about how, even though town was just a few miles out, my daddy and I lived without electricity or hot water. I think hearing about us making do made me seem strong to her, and I never cared to look that way for her. She knew my limits with it.

So, she'd tell me she wanted a cabin, we'd laugh, and I'd tell her some old stories to satisfy that want. That pattern kept us busy for the first five years we were married. It was all fun and games till she told me she found some land we could afford. About 25 acres in the middle of nowhere, closest town being about an hour's drive away. A whole lotta land for a whole lotta nothing, with nothing but the woods surrounding us. One road in and out. Plenty of space for whatever we wanted to do, with a big cabin already built. It was perfect.

I turned in my notice at the scrap yard, and she turned hers in at the flower shop. We loaded up what we needed in my truck, and by the next morning we pulled into the little cabin we'd always dreamed of. By the next week I had her a surprise, something to thank her for bringing me back home. A little great dane pup named Dolly. She was a cute little thing too, solid black with the floppiest ears you ever saw.

We had a family there in those mountains. I'd hunt and chop firewood or even fix the house most days, and she'd go clean and cook for us. In between, we found more and more time to read together or talk by the fire. Dolly grew faster than I could begin to tell ya. If she wasn't playing with my wife or digging holes in our garden she was out hunting with me. She was a real good dog.

Well, then this real weird stuff started happening. Stuff I still can't really explain to be truthful with you. At night we'd hear rustling in the garden, or Dolly would start barking at the windows. I always figured it was raccoons or opossums or something, but now I wish I'd have checked on it.

Time went on, and after a month of this happening about once a week, it started to amp up. I'd be lucky to see so much as a squirrel around when I was hunting, and while I was gone my wife would hear scratching at the roof or walls. We'd find deep cuts in trees sometimes. God knows how long they'd been there though, so I always wrote it off as old bear clawings. Always felt like I was being watched while I was outside. Dammit all.

I kept my cool through all this. Did my best to explain away every little thing that made her more and more afraid of our dream. Some nights only Dolly could calm her down. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ignoring how she felt.

One day it all went wrong, though. Worse than I could have imagined. I was inside reading while she was doing dishes from dinner, and that scratching came back. She froze. Dolly looked up at it and growled. I found myself looking up with the dog. It was on the roof. It was on the roof the whole time. Slowly, I eased the book onto the table, and I stood up. I walked to the front door, and I gently pushed it open. My wife, God love her, she looked at me and whimpered out a soft, "No.." through her hands which covered her mouth.

I was about to close the door back when a loud crash came from the treeline, and Dolly ran out after it. She knocked me off my feet as she ran past. Before I could get back up she was gone, and the woods were silent. I remember cussing the dog, saying I'd have to go get her. My wife begged me to stay and wait on the porch for her. I agreed.

Come early morning, there was still no sign of her. Not even a snapped twig. Couple days passed without anything from Dolly or those weird sounds. Slowly things went back to normal, but we couldn't get past the hole left behind. Never had the heart to tell her I found her in a tree one day while I was hunting, bout five days after she ran off. She got strung up by her guts, and her damn ribs were underneath her on the ground. Her eyes were dried and rotted out. I got sick to my stomach for the first time in years that day.

I saw Dolly when I slept. I saw her when I blinked. What the hell could've done that to a dog that big? No bear was gonna fight a dog that size. No mountain lion or bobcat was gonna climb that high. What in God's name did that to our dog?

I got a lot quieter after all that. My wife tried not to. Her poor eyes got so sunken in. She kept complaining about getting gray hairs. She never asked me to leave, though. A sick, curious part of me didn't want to. I just wanted to give her her dream, and even more so I wanted to kill whatever did that to my Dolly. Was it selfish of me?

Roughly a week later there was a thud on the door. A loud one. My wife just looked at it from her chair. Her eyes went wide. I stood up and opened the door. Something left a single, black paw on our front porch. I didn't let her see it. Said a bird flew into the door. She knew I was lying.

It all picked back up so fast. Scratches on the walls and roof, rocks thrown at me in the woods, deep cuts in trees, and even dead animals scattered in our yard. Then, one day, I heard a scream. My heart sank while I ran through those trees towards it. It came from the same direction our cabin was in. When I got there the door was swinging open, and there was blood on the porch.

I backed away slowly. I could feel my lips trembling and my head pounding, and my blood ran cold. I looked up to see her hanging from the roof. My dear wife. My beautiful wife. My love. There was a hole in her stomach and out her back, and she was halfway on the roof. Her hair draped off of her shoulders. I felt tears start to rush to my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall. Because, right behind her, there was something I can hardly explain. It was tall, at least nine feet, and it had long, lanky limbs. Its skin was a dark brown like the trees behind it. The damn thing had one hand inside her stomach, and another at its mouth. It had a piece of her hanging from its jaws.

It looked at me with yellow eyes. I took a shot at it with my rifle and ran. Not sure if I hit it or not, but all I know is I heard a slam on the roof once I started running, and I heard something hit the ground hard when I turned and jumped into the cellar. Now I'm sitting here like a cornered rat with two locked doors behind me. I can hear it pacing by the entrance. If you're reading this, get the hell out of here. Do it as quick as you can. I think I'm not far behind Dolly and my wife. All I know is I'm gonna do everything in my power to take that ugly son of a bitch down with me for what it did. I swear to God I am.