The Smiling Dog

Chapter 5: Broken Curse?

July 20, 2024

In the days following my revelation to my parents, a fragile sense of hope took root. We had to do something—anything—to end the nightmare. My parents, though still bewildered by the situation, threw themselves into the search for answers. Together, we embarked on a quest to understand and, if possible, break the curse of Smile Dog.

My dad, ever the pragmatist, decided we needed professional help. He scheduled an appointment with Dr. Anderson, a well-regarded psychologist. I was hesitant at first, unsure if a psychologist could truly grasp the supernatural nature of our plight, but I had to try.

The session with Dr. Anderson was surreal. I sat in a plush chair, recounting the events that had led to my torment, watching as his professional demeanor shifted from skepticism to concern. He listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes.

"Alex," he said after I'd finished, "nightmares, especially recurrent ones, can often stem from deep-seated fears and anxieties. Have you experienced any recent trauma or significant stress?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing like that. It's the picture, Dr. Anderson. It's like it's alive, like it's haunting me."

He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "The mind can be very powerful, capable of creating vivid and terrifying experiences. But I believe you when you say this feels real. We need to approach this from both psychological and investigative angles."

His words provided some comfort, but I knew he didn't fully grasp the supernatural element. Regardless, I agreed to follow his suggestions, which included keeping a dream journal and practicing relaxation techniques before bed.

Meanwhile, my mom delved into the internet, researching every corner of the web for clues about Smile Dog. She reached out to tech forums, paranormal communities, and even some dark web contacts. It was through one of these shadowy connections that she found Mark.

Mark was an enigma, a self-proclaimed dark web expert with a reputation for uncovering the internet's deepest secrets. He agreed to meet with us in a public place, understanding the seriousness of our situation.

We met him at a small, quiet café downtown. He was a wiry man in his late thirties, with sharp features and an intensity in his eyes that hinted at countless hours spent behind a computer screen.

"Alex, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," he greeted us, sitting down with a laptop in hand. "I've done some digging into this 'Smile Dog' phenomenon. It's not just an urban legend. There's something very real and very dangerous about it."

He opened his laptop, showing us a series of documents and chat logs. "The image first appeared in 1998 on a now-defunct website. It's been linked to multiple cases of psychological breakdowns and even suicides. The common thread is always the same: the image, the nightmares, and the command to 'spread the word.'"

I shivered as he continued. "I've traced the origins back to a server farm on the outskirts of town. It's abandoned now, but records show it was once a hub for some very questionable activities. If there's a source to this curse, it might be there."

My dad looked skeptical. "An abandoned server farm? It sounds dangerous. Are you sure about this?"

Mark nodded. "It's a lead. If we can find the original file, maybe we can destroy it and break the curse."

Determination and fear warred within me. The idea of confronting the source of my nightmares was terrifying, but it also offered a glimmer of hope. I glanced at my parents, their faces etched with concern but also a resolve to see this through.

"We'll go," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We'll find the server farm and end this."

My parents exchanged a glance, then nodded in unison. "We'll go together," my mom said, her voice firm. "We're not letting you face this alone."

With Mark's guidance, we planned our visit to the server farm. Armed with flashlights, tools, and a determination to end this nightmare, we set out, our fears tempered by the hope that we might finally find a way to break the curse.

The drive to the outskirts of town was tense. The landscape grew increasingly desolate, with abandoned buildings and overgrown vegetation marking our path. When we arrived at the server farm, it was a hulking, dilapidated structure, looming ominously against the darkening sky.

Mark led the way, his laptop open and scanning for any active signals. "The servers should be in the basement," he said, his voice echoing in the empty halls. "Stay close and be careful."

As we descended into the bowels of the building, a cold, clammy fear gripped my heart. The air was thick with dust and the stale scent of decay. We found the server room, a cavernous space filled with ancient, rusted machines. Mark set to work, connecting his laptop to the main terminal.

"Here it is," he said after a tense few minutes. "The original Smile.jpg file. But it's heavily encrypted."

My dad stepped forward, his hand on my shoulder. "Do what you have to do, Mark."

As Mark began the decryption process, the room seemed to grow colder. Shadows danced at the edges of my vision, and a low growl echoed through the darkness. The dog was here, watching us, waiting.

With a final keystroke, Mark breached the encryption. The file appeared on the screen, the same grinning dog that had haunted my nightmares. "Now we just need to delete it," he said.

But before he could act, the power surged, and the lights flickered. The computer screen went black, and the growling intensified. The dog emerged from the shadows, its grin impossibly wide.

"Spread the word," it whispered, its voice filling the room.

My mom screamed, clutching my dad's arm. Mark frantically tried to restore the power, but it was too late. The dog lunged, its eyes burning with malevolent glee.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the end. But then, a blinding light filled the room, and the dog vanished. The computer screen flickered back to life, the file still there, waiting.

"Delete it, now!" I shouted.

Mark's fingers flew across the keyboard, and with a final keystroke, the file was erased. The room fell silent, the oppressive weight lifting from my chest.

We stood there, trembling and exhausted, but the curse was broken. Smile Dog was no more.

As we made our way back to the surface, the first rays of dawn breaking through the gloom, I felt a renewed sense of hope. The nightmare was over, and we had faced it together.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could finally breathe.