15 for 15 Entries

June 15: Dog

Everyone said the house on the corner of Sundown and Mercer was haunted. It was abandoned, that was for sure. The grass had grown up as high as the front steps and the front window had a big crack running down the middle. The paint was peeling like my sister's nail polish after three days. Everyone said that the house was locked up tight, but all the kids also knew that there was a spare key kept under a cracked red flowerpot on the front porch.

Still, not many wandered into the old house. For one, a kid had vanished in there. Supposedly, he'd just run away, but I didn't believe it. He was my best friend's brother and he was only fourteen. I don't think many fourteen-year-olds would just up and run away for no reason. Nope, I thought he was still somewhere in the house. The police had searched the house and found nothing, but that didn't mean anything. Any kid worth his salt knew that haunted houses could hide whatever they didn't want the authorities to see. It just made sense.

I never wanted to go in there. Call me chicken or whatever you want. That house gave me the creeps. Walking past it on the way to school, it always felt like something was watching you. Something malevolent.

So that Friday afternoon, I wasn't exactly in a dawdling mood as I walked home. For one, my favorite show, Doctor Who, was scheduled to come on in fifteen minutes and I didn't want to miss it. If you miss the first five minutes, nothing after makes sense, I've always thought. It holds true for a surprising number of shows. I barely even noticed the old house, except to scoot to the farthest edge of the sidewalk, practically in the road.

That is, until I saw the dog.

It was lying near the front porch, panting. It looked like a Boston terrier, maybe. One of those little black-and-white dogs. At first, I was afraid it was going to rush over and bite me. I'd had some nasty experiences with small dogs when I was little, so I remained wary.

It just lay there, though, little pink tongue curled out against its chin. Its eyes were bright. It didn't bark as it looked at me. I stopped on the sidewalk, a slight smile spreading over my face. I mean, who couldn't smile? The dog was cute as hell.

"Here, boy," I whistled. The dog cocked its head but didn't budge. "Aww, come on," I said, edging a little closer to the front yard. "I ain't going over there, so you might as well come over here, okay?"

The dog stood up and I felt a brief moment of hope. It whined, and then trotted up the front steps.

"Aw, hell," I said, shaking my head. "No way, dog. I don't know why you like that creepy old house, but I am not going up there with you. You can forget about it."

The dog whined again and stared at me with those big, bright eyes. Come here, the dog's eyes seemed to say. Come here, it will be fun.

I looked down. Without even realizing it, I now stood halfway between the sidewalk and the front door. The grass scratched against my jean cuffs.

"What the...?" a trickle of apprehension slid down my spine. This was weird. This was beyond weird. The dog was cute and all, but I'd never seen it before in my life, and it was getting way too comfy on the front porch of this house. No. Time to go.

The dog barked. Its tail wagged merrily behind it, almost like it had a will of its own. It pranced closer to the front door, pawing at the splintered wood.

"Don't do that, you stupid dog, you'll get a splinter," I muttered. Maybe I could just grab the dog and get it away from the house. Yeah. That sounded like a good plan. See if the dog had a collar on. Take it to the vet. Maybe the dog would try and bite me if I just tried to pick it up, but hell, it was better than leaving it alone, right? Right? Yes. Good plan.

"Come here, doggy," I said, stepping closer, my sneakers crunching through the grass. It looked more than half-dead and I wondered why. We'd had a couple really good rain storms lately. Surely the water should have helped?

The dog whimpered suddenly, and the apprehension was back, clawing at my stomach. All the stories I'd ever heard about the house circulated through my head.

No. I just had to get the dog and then I would get the hell out of here. I didn't know when the dog had become so important, but I couldn't leave it here.

"Come here, boy. Come on. Get off the stupid porch," I hissed at it. It barked sharply at me. Great. Now it was almost certain the damn thing would bite me. Oh well.

I stepped onto the first step and it creaked ominously under my weight. Uh-oh. Still, the dog was pretty close now. It would probably only take another step.

One step. And then another. I reached the top.

"Here, doggy," I said and reached toward the dog. Suddenly, the porch heaved under me. That's all I could describe it as. I fell flat on my face with a sharp thump, hissing in pain. What the...? How had that happened?

The dog loomed over me as I rolled onto my back, my eyes blurry. It looked...different. Its teeth had grown, lengthening into sharp canines that looked as big as my pinky fingers. Its eyes had a disconcertingly red gleam to them. Saliva dripped down its chin in long ropes.

The dog planted its paws on my chest, a low growl rumbling in its throat, and I knew then.

I wasn't going anywhere.