Stories to haunt you night or day

Green eyed boy

1.

"The police are across the street."

Cal stood in front of the bathroom mirror, face covered in white shaving cream and an orange razor in one hand. The room was full of warm steam from the long shower he'd taken, but after her statement he'd gone cold.

She knocked. "Did you hear what I said?"

"At the Daniels' house?"

"Yes," she said, "and there are a lot of them."

In other words, hurry up.

He thought of the black notebook he kept in a drawer in his office, the Journal of Dead Animals. He was trembling.

2.

The kitchen smelled like bacon. A plate of cooked strips was on the table, covered with paper towels that glistened with grease. Saturday breakfast; eggs, hash browns, toast and bacon was their tradition. Julie stood at the windows, peering across the street, and he joined her.

"Morning," he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

Two police cars were parked in front of the Daniels' house. Another, a sleek grey color with no light bar on top, was angled in the driveway. That was a detective's car, he thought. Or something the coroner drove.

"They're pretty old," he said. "One of them might have passed."

"Are you going to check?"

He nodded. "Where's the kiddo?"

"Sleeping in."

Cal grabbed his coat from the mud room and exited the house. It was getting colder. The furnace needed an inspection, probably some repairs. Need to get that done before too long, he thought as he left the front yard.

Cop cars at the neighbor's house never meant something good had happened. When they'd bought the house, the Daniels had been the first to welcome them. They'd become friendly acquaintances. Kyle's peculiarities had never pushed them away, making them true friends. He hoped everything was okay.

The cop cars were black with white emblems on the door. Why did they make them so ominous? He stepped onto the Daniels' walkway and saw the group on the side of the house. The Daniels, both white haired and stooped over with age, stood next to two police officers and a man in a suit, probably the detective. The formed a semi-circle around something on the ground. Cal approached, walking heavy so that they'd hear his footsteps.

"Everything okay?"

Stupid question.

Old man Daniels waved and stepped away from the circle. Cal saw the dog. Rather, he saw what was left of her. She lay in a heap, blonde fur matted with a crust of blood. Parts of her internal organs lay on top her carcass. She'd been gutted. All that remained whole was her face and she stared into nothing, eyes vacant, dull and dead.

"Oh no," Cal said.

"Something got a hold of my dog," the old man said.

Cal joined their circle, but only for a moment. Black flies hovered over the dog-corpse. One landed on something white, a sharp piece of broken bone maybe. Cal's stomach flip flopped. He backed away.

"You hear anything last night?" the detective asked.

"I heard the dog barking, but not like it was being hurt."

One of the cops, he looked only a few years older than Kyle, said, "I'm calling this one a Code WTF."

Indeed.