Chapter 1

1: The Black Dog

Ever since I could remember I lived in an old house, about twenty feet down the street was a dead end of mangled, gnarly old trees. And an entrance to the woods. People used the woods often, mostly teenagers looking for a good time. People never really stayed very long though, and I never saw the same face pass through twice.

The thing about living by the woods is that you get to see things. You get to see the things that hide in the shadows. You get to see the things that are the shadows. In my case, it was the dog. This one particular dog.

It was big and black with matted fur and a collar made of iron chains, making an eerie rattling with every step the beast took. The dog looked pretty average from a distance, the size of a German Shepard or something, and then you got closer. And it got bigger. I'd never seen the thing up close, but I'd imagine it would stand with its head around my neck if I was directly in front of it.

I'm not short, by anyone's standards. Standing at a towering height of 6"1, I should have made the beast that darted in and out of the tree line look tiny. I guess it didn't matter anyways. I never got close enough for a side-by-side comparison. I never wanted to get that close to the thing.

The dog- if you can even call it that- had rotten yellow eyes that seemed to glow, and on some nights that's the only thing you could see of the beast. Every night it would come to the edge of the trees and stare.

Always when I was on my balcony, lighting up my nightly cigarette- a nasty addiction I was working on breaking- when I saw it. For the first two nights I wondered if it was just my imagination throwing the amber glow into the woods and creating an illusion.

Then I heard the chains. The first week was windy,  so I figured it was the rustling of a lock or something. I didn't think. I didn't know. I missed the ignorance I had back then. Now, now I can't leave my house at night for fear of the thing.

While I had never been side-by-side with the thing, during the first few weeks of seeing it I did have a close encounter. I think it was a Friday, because that night I had a late shift at work.

Friday of however many weeks ago I was walking out to my car, at around 11:30, when I saw it. I didn't react at first. I was paralyzed. The thing had huge, bowl sized yellowing eyes. They looked rotten with decay, a decay I could smell form fifty feet away. The entire thing smelled like death, and even from this distance I could make out the clumps of fur matted together in what I had assumed was blood.

The creature just looked at me, it's spine curved in an attack ready position, its teeth bared, a low snarl was let out. And even from this distance I could feel it shaking me to my very core. It was so loud, so horrifying. There are just no words to describe that awful sound.

I unlocked my car as quickly as possible, getting in and fumbling slightly for the ignition, fear making my hands shake. I went to the movies like I had planed and didn't go home that night. I stayed with a friend, and got drunk. So drunk I almost didn't remember the way it looked at me, the almost smirk on its face. Oh how I wish I had forgotten.

The dog had been the subject of many of my nightmares since then. Every night, I would go out and smoke, and it would be there, glowing yellow eyes ripe with a decay I could smell from where I was standing. Every night it would just stand and stare. I didn't know what to do. But I couldn't move into a new house, I was broke. I stopped smoking on that balcony, I stopped smoking outside at all. From the garage, I couldn't see it.

But I could still smell it. About a week after that, I went to a doctor. Ms. Dracoon was her name. She said it would be best if I did some tests, most likely to see if I was crazy. But I guess that's the real reason I went there, to see if I was crazy. But I still left the room in a fit of anger.

That night, I just curled up in my bed, blankets surrounding me, as if to offer any protection against the dog, and turned up my tv. I was watching who knows what. But it kept my thoughts busy. It kept me inside. It kept me safe.

The next morning I stepped out back for a quick smoke, not having one the night before. That's when I saw it. Slashes raked down my back door, long claw marks, marring the wood, each going around one fourth of an inch deep. It looked like the door was ready to give in.

That day I packed my things and checked myself into a hotel. I had a room towards the center of the building with no windows facing outside. That night I went to sleep peacefully. Sleep came and went, but every time I closed my eyes it was there. It was standing over me ripping out my insides. Nightmares, yes. But the pain and realism was too much.

I didn't stay in the hotel for another night. I went home, sat on my balcony and smoked a cigarette like I did every night. It was there, watching me. But at least I knew, at least I knew where it was. And for some odd reason, I felt as if the dog wouldn't harm me if I kept up this pattern. I was wrong.