February 29

Chapter 3

December 3, 2004

My Love Lisa,

I am delighted in the gift you have sent me, and I wish you the happiest of holidays. I simply regret that I can not come home and spend time with you or Danny. How I miss you both. I am also delighted that you respected my wishes and sent me a brown colored dog, with a small hint of gold in his fur.

Never send me a black dog.

Of course, I would love it and care for it as if it were any other dog, but it would hurt me. It would plague me with horrible nightmares, horrible visions of the other black dogs. Les chiens noires. The dark dogs. You may not have heard of them, therefore I will take the great risk of explaining them in this letter. However, in me doing so, you must never ever show this to anyone, not even your closest friend Betsy. You must read this letter, then store it in the Place, the Place in which I explained in my previous letter.

They are his pets. I may be crazy enough to disclose the information about les chiens noires in this writing, but I will not, will not, disclose information about him in any other way. Such insanity would only result in my death, my torture. Anyways, they are black hounds, large brutes that feed of the pain and suffering of life. Their fur is slick, but intangible. I have not seen one, thank God, but from the sources I have observed, it seems that they are made of some kind of black fire. They have the ability to morph into any form they desire, whether it be avian, insect or human. However, they are not able to rid themselves of the black flame that defines them. It was not long ago that I received a patient from Sweden, one who claimed that he had come in contact with les chiens noires. Of course, I didn't believe him, the man was a paranoid schizophrenic with a long history of LSD abuse, but that was before he pulled his arm sleeve up, and showed me a grisly bite in which he explain had been caused by a large black dog with a "coat of flame" who had attacked him spontaneously. It was then that I lay him down, and investigated.

The man died three days later. When I found him, his body was burnt as if it had been through a wildfire. His face was black, his flesh charred. I still am not sure of the causes of his death. All I know is that les chiens noires bite caused that poor man to die, to burn. I then procured a list of abilities for them, and added can cause fire less than an hour later.

My love, should you see les chiens noires, take Danny and hide away in the Place. Do not come out until you are sure that they are away, gone. Until you are safe. Do no touch it. Do not try move too quickly if it sees you. Lock yourself in the Place and keep Danny safe.

Let me end my letter with this heed of warning, my love. Should anyone be bitten by les chiens noires, he or she will surely die. May it be within three days or three weeks, according to my theories, the bite would spurn fires inside the individual, until the fire engulfs him or her and eventually burns him to death. Beware the black fire, my love, beware the black fire.

I'm afraid, now it is of late and I can write no more. It is dangerous enough to write of his playthings in such a manner, but I feel it is something you must know. Do not speak of this to anyone else but Danny, when he is old enough. If you do, if word spreads too quickly, he will come after you, he and les chiens noires. He will take you and try to kill you along with all the others who have tried to expose him. Please be secretive.

Have a sweet night laced with beautiful dreams,

P.S. Do tell Danny that I named the dog Shirt, just as he asked, and that I will send him a picture as soon as time avails.

I howled in agony as Dean pulled another needle-like tooth from my calf. We were at my house, a little less impressive as Dean's, and shaken from the attack. I knew my parents wouldn't be home - they were never home before me. But I had to wonder where they were, and if they were safe. We were in a dark living room, the only light a bleak lamp that had a flickering light bulb.