Horrors from Around the World

Night 038 - Smiling Dogs

It started in the neighborhood a few weeks ago.

People's dogs began acting strange—quiet, too quiet. The barking stopped, and those familiar playful yips were replaced by eerie silence. Even my dog, Max, once full of energy, would just sit by the window, staring out for hours. He wouldn't wag his tail or even acknowledge me when I called his name.

One night, I heard a low, throaty growl coming from the living room. Max was sitting in the darkness, facing the door, completely still. His back was to me, but something about his posture made my skin crawl. I called to him, but he didn't move.

I stepped closer and then I saw it.

Max turned his head slowly, eyes reflecting the dim light from the hallway. But it wasn't his eyes that froze me in place. It was his mouth.

He was smiling.

Not a dog's playful panting or excited grin—no, this was a wide, unnatural smile. His lips stretched impossibly far, revealing straight, white teeth that didn't belong in a dog's mouth. Teeth that looked human.

I stumbled back, heart pounding. His eyes never left mine, that twisted grin still plastered on his face. It was as if he was waiting for something, expecting me to react... or to run.

The next day, I heard more stories from my neighbors. One by one, their dogs had started smiling too, showing those same disturbingly human teeth. No one knew why. No one could explain it. Some of them tried to take their pets to the vet, but none of the dogs ever made it to the clinic.

They just disappeared.

Last night, I woke up to the sound of scratching at my bedroom door. It was Max. I didn't have to see him to know he was there, waiting for me to open the door.

Waiting with that smile.

And now... I can hear scratching again.