My mother never liked the darkness. Ever since I was a little kid, she told me stories of shadow people that lurked in the darkest corners of the backyard. Every day, for as long as I could remember, she would call me to come inside before the sun could even have a chance to set.
Whenever I asked why, she simply said that it was due to the shadow people being on their way, and that the forest was one of their resting points during sunset. As a kid, I’ve never questioned why. But now, as a teenager, I’ve begun to question my mother’s warnings, due to me also realizing that my mom was a very religious woman and me being the stereotypical rebellious goth teenager.
On a particular summer afternoon, my dog Cindy managed to squeeze herself through the backyard fence and dash into the woods behind our house. My mother allowed me to go after her, but to return before sunset, as usual.
I didn’t pay mind to her warnings as I set off into the outermosts of our town. I allowed myself to aimlessly wander through the evergreens as I called out to my black canine friend.
Hours passed by and still no sign of Cindy. Worry began to take over as I took notice of something: I passed by that tree three times. Even more panic rushed in as I noticed that the sun had finished setting, and that I was stranded in the woods.
Luckily, I remembered to bring my compass along and to occasionally check which direction my house was as I went. However, I didn’t remember to mentally take notes along the way, thus causing the memories to be slightly foggy.
As I wandered through the now dark forest, I used my phone to illuminate the path before me as I glanced down at my compass. Northwest… North… The next thing I saw was a facefull of dirt, followed by pain in my nose.
Sitting up, I gently rubbed my nose and glanced at my aching foot. A bone…? No, not just any bone, for it was covered in animal marks. I instantly grabbed the bone and examined it: it was covered in numerous bitemarks and saliva, just the way Cindy would usually play with her toys.
Whimpering came from behind me, and I turned my head to see the familiar black canine shape just ten feet behind me, looking at me with her bobbed tail wagging. Her eyes glowed yellow as my phone’s light reflected on them. Overjoyed, I opened my arms and she came flying towards me, smothering me with kisses and the like.
Forcing myself to stand, I grabbed my things and began heading back, overjoyed that I finally had my dog back.
However, when we got back, my mom didn’t take so kindly to me returning so late and was quick to scold me. I rolled my eyes and quickly gave Cindy a bath, due to her smelling like death. Following that, I promptly went to bed, with Cindy sleeping by my side.
In the morning, I began my usual routine, however, Cindy wasn’t quite like her usual self. Whenever I’d take a morning bath, she’d usually be outside of the bathroom, waiting for me to finish. But today, she was simply laying on the bed, staring aimlessly at the forest without moving a muscle. Any attempt I made to play with her, to try to coax her to follow me or anything in general usually resulted in her growling at me. Though worried, I continued my routine and promptly went to school.
When I came back, my mother approached me, with both fear and great concern apparent in her face. When I asked her what’s wrong, she told me that Cindy had been acting very violently towards her whenever she got close to the bone I brought in last night.
She went on to explain that Cindy went downstairs every half hour or so just to stare at herself in the sliding glass door in the kitchen. However, whenever my mom was in front or next to the sliding glass door, the dog would simply glare at her before going back upstairs. She wouldn’t even enter the living room, despite loving being on the sofa whenever I’m at school.
Though weird, I brushed it off and continued to carry out my normal routine: nap, do my homework, take Cindy for a walk, draw, smoke and eat dinner. After an hour had passed, I suddenly felt drowsy and decided to hit the hay. After wishing my mother goodnight, I headed upstairs only to find Cindy staring out of the window.
I wished Cindy a good night’s rest as usual and got into bed, with my dog crawling in right next to me. With her by my side, I instantly fell asleep…
I woke up to the sound of nails clicking downstairs. Glancing at my alarm clock, I held back a gasp as it read 3 AM. I sat up to see a similar sized lump under the blanket beside me. I touched it, it was warm to the touch but it didn’t feel like fur. Despite knowing that my dog was sleeping right besides me, my gut told me to go and check anyways.
Slipping on my socks, I silently made my way downstairs, careful not to step on the creaky steps as I made my way into the kitchen. I carefully stepped into the living room and peaked from the corner. What I was in the kitchen almost made me want to scream.
What was eating out of Cindy’s food bowl wasn’t my dog, but was instead a massive canid creature with ruffled black fur, an emaciated body, razor sharp teeth, overgrown nails and a long forked grey tongue. It was hunched over the food bowl, stuffing its face as its long tongue lapped up the wet and dry food with ease. The pellets crunched between its killer jaws as it feasted.
As soon as it finished, the creature simply moved onto the water bowl, lapping all of the water down in 3 gulps with ease. However, its hunger wasn’t yet satisfied. It moved towards the sliding glass door, presumibly to go out and hunt.
However, it suddenly paused, turning its head to face me, yellow eyes glistening as it focused on me. All of my willpower died, with me freezing in place and my breath being trapped in my throat. It let out an annoyed huff and went upstairs, disappearing into my room, with its tail wagging behind it.
Terrified, I anxiously padded behind it, glancing into my room, only to see that Cindy was sitting on my bed, tilting her head and staring at me. Relieved, I stepped into the room, recollection of the events that have just happened instantly disappearing as I laid back down, the comforting warmth of my dog pressing beside me.
As I fell asleep, I noticed something rather off: Cindy’s tail seemed to be longer than it usually was.
