The Water Street Creature

The Water Street Creature
by Linda Cassada

Daniel Solis walked down the center of Jay Street, smoking his last cigarette of the night as he went. A stiff November wind caused his teeth to chatter when the cigarette wasn't between them. And despite keeping his free hand deep in the pocket of his leather Alpaca, he still felt as if his fingers might freeze before he reached home.

His concern was not the falling temperature, however. It was the stranger and his Doberman, who'd followed him since he'd emerged from the train station.

From what Daniel could discern, given the dull light of old fashioned street lamps at the cobblestone intersections, the man was the preppy sort. Biffs, he and the fellas called them. Light, close-cut hair. Shirt tucked into his pants. Clean, white sneakers.

Just your average Biff out walking his dog, at a questionable time of night and in a neighborhood in which he didn't belong.

He could've been a new resident-one of those who'd been buying up studio apartments converted from the floors of old factory buildings. That would explain why he was unknowingly taking his life into his own hands by walking his dog at midnight.

Daniel didn't let his guard down, though. He remained sensitive, alert. No one could be trusted, especially not the Biff types. He could've been a pervert, a freak who preyed on teenage boys. There seemed to be a lot of those around Brooklyn, lately.

Daniel, whose nickname among friends was White Boy, passed between the Dupont paint factory and its employee parking, then quickly approached the intersection of Jay with Front Street.


At five each afternoon, the factories dominating that area of Brooklyn Heights between the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and the waterfront were shut down. Within thirty minutes, the streets were as uninhabited as the Sahara. Only the locals, the homeless, and the mentally unstable were brave enough to venture out after the sun went down.

Daniel entered the shadows of a textile factory, which occupied the left side of Jay between Front and Water Streets, and glanced back at the Biff and his dog. Locals knew better than to walk on the sidewalks after dark. And the homeless didn't own Dobermans and brand new sneakers. So the guy had to be mentally unstable.

When he turned to face forward he could see the front of his building, now only a block away. The building dated to 1893, when the first floor provided watermen with drinks, and the second floor provided them with women. Sometime before his mother and father bought the building, the downstairs saloon had been converted to a bar and grill, and the whorehouse to a massive upstairs apartment.

"Daniel!"

A single street lamp stood at the intersection of Jay with Water Street. Its golden light fell over the upper half of his mother's pudgy body, which protruded from the upstairs window.

He rolled his eyes. "Si?"

In clean, crisp Spanish she responded. "No me mire con estos ojos." Of course, there was no way she could see him rolling his eyes. But then, Ma always did see things beyond her own sight. "Where have you been? It's past midnight," she asked.

Daniel didn't answer, but took one last drag from the cigarette and flicked it into the gutter. When he reached Water Street, he turned once more and spotted the preppy guy and his dog as they crossed Front Street. Pervert or suicidal freak. Either way, he was in the wrong neighborhood.

Crossing the intersection, Daniel veered off toward the left side of Jay Street, then continued moving until he'd passed the old café. Theirs was the building past it. And when he reached the door that led to their upstairs apartment, he stepped up onto the concrete hearth and turned to watch.

"Quien es?" his mother asked, still leaning out the window above him.

"I don't know. He followed me from up near the train station." Movement at the edge of his periphery caught his attention. Someone else was approaching the intersection from further down Water Street.

"Mira," his mother said. But he was already watching.

Cloaked in shadows, the dark figure stayed close to the brick wall of the textile factory on the far side of Water Street. And even though a splash of golden light illuminated the building's brick corner, Daniel could detect no detail to its clothing.

This shapeless creature-most likely wearing every article of clothing it owned, as a homeless person would-was hunched over, its spine forming a gentle shepherd's hook. Its head was large and oddly shaped as if it had not seen a brush or clippers in years. And it dragged its right foot against the concrete, making a shhh-shhh-shhh sound that echoed off the brick wall beside it.

Daniel's heart began to pick up speed, pumping harder and faster. And despite the beads of sweat forming at his hairline, a shiver of revolt caused him to fold his arms across his chest. The hairs on his neck began to bristle, and he knew then that this wasn't your normal vagrant. Something was different about it. Something was wrong.

Walking seemed painful for this strange being, but it reached the corner of the textile factory before Biff and his dog. When it turned up Jay Street toward the train station, beneath which many of the homeless lived, it seemed oblivious of the approaching pair, who were no more than twenty feet away. And for a moment, Daniel thought it would continue past them without incident.
Then, a jingling sound rang out through the night, resonating against the nearby, windowless buildings. And suddenly the dog lunged forward, growling and barking. Its white teeth, bared to the creature, glistened against the golden street light. But the dog's owner held fast to the other end of the chain as the creature, startled by the snarling dog, turned and slipped back around the corner. In a fraction of a second, the creature had disappeared.

Biff was alarmed by the creature's swiftness and tried to step back. But with his arm already extended and the dog pulling at the chain, he was unable to move.

"Jesus Christ," Daniel said, breaking the silence. "What the f--?" He caught himself before the word tumbled out of his mouth. But he still cringed, expecting his mother to scold him, anyway.

When she remained silent, he turned to look up at her. Her mouth hung open as she stared out at Biff and his dog. She was in her pink robe, zipped to her neck to fend off the cold. And her raven hair was twisted around a mass of pink curlers. "Mira. Here he comes again."

The hunched creature made its way back to the corner, this time with more caution. And the dog grew still, its amber eyes locked upon the corner of the brick building. It seemed to sense the creature's approach.

And the preppy guy was no more eager to continue than the dog. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open.

When the creature reached the corner of the building and again turned up Jay Street, the stranger tensed.

Chi-ching. Chi-ching. Chi-ching. The metal links in the dog's chain began to sing, the animal's growl erupted into a vicious snarl, and again, the creature fled. It moved slower this time, though, more certain that the dog would not give chase.

The intersection was drenched in silence as everyone, including the dog, waited to see if the creature would return.

A minute passed. Then two.

And just when Daniel became convinced that the creature, like Medusa, had turned its opponent to stone, the man shifted his gaze to Daniel and his mother. He looked at them as if they might offer advice on what to do or on how to sprout some balls.

Finding them expressionless, he looked down at the dog then glanced back over his shoulder. He was considering turning back the way he'd come-which was the advice Daniel would've offered in the first place.

But then he just stood there. He didn't go forward, and he didn't turn back toward the train station.

Daniel's mother chuckled. "A big, mean dog. And still he has no cajones."

Then, the man took a step. And another. Those first steps were leery, uncertain. But as he drew near the corner, he became more confident. The dog responded by trotting ahead, nose to the ground but watchful-most likely having decided that the creature was gone.

But the dog was mistaken.

The dark figure reappeared, limping up Water Street toward Jay again. And in Daniel's estimation, neither of the beasts would see the other until they came face to face at the corner.

Daniel heard his mother gasp, and he was overcome by the urge to yell. But it was too late. The lumbering creature rounded the corner when the dog's nose was less than three feet away.

Biff tensed, jerking sharply on the Doberman's chain, which jingled in response. But this jingle was different than those meant to induce viciousness. This sound was an involuntary jingle caused by the nervous man's surprise and sudden halt.

However, the dog didn't detect the difference.

It attacked, causing the creature to stumble backward. But the creature somehow maintained its balance. It spun away from the bloodthirsty Doberman. And in a flash, it was gone.

The dog continued to snarl and bark. And its owner fought to hold onto the leash as his sweaty fingers began to slip against the leather, looped handle. His hand was slowly forced open. And suddenly, the dog was free.

In two strides, the barking Doberman had rounded the corner. Its chain clanked and jangled against the uneven, concrete pavement. And its owner just stood there with his arm extended, as if he still clutched the leather handle. He hadn't yet realized that his dog was about to kill someone-or something.

Daniel bolted off the sidewalk, crossing Jay Street to the Ben Foreman and Sons Metal Company. He knew to keep his distance.

As he stepped up onto the curb, the dog fell silent and an eerie calm descended. But the calm was shattered by a deafening shriek that forced his palms to his ears. The sound was unlike anything Daniel had ever heard, falling somewhere on the range between human and beast.

The dog got him, he thought.

With the dog and its prey still out of sight beyond the old café, he moved toward the street corner, his view down Water Street improving with every step.

Less than ten paces from where concrete met cobblestone, another sound broke through the silence. The unique yelp of a dog.

Within seconds he'd reached the corner and was surprised to see only the dog's owner, jogging in pursuit of his escaped man-eater. There should've been an injured beast of some kind between Biff and the intersection of Pearl with Water Street. But there was only an empty sidewalk, black with shadows.

What the hell?

Daniel bounded off the curb. In three running strides he crossed Jay Street and rejoined the sidewalk. He continued on toward Pearl Street, passing to the left of the old café.

Suddenly, he saw the dog's owner begin to slow. The man came to an abrupt stop in a black patch of sidewalk. And as Daniel approached, he began to make out the form of the dog, lying motionless among the shadows. He slowed from a sprint to a jog, then stopped to peer across Water Street at the unlucky pair.

The guy stooped to one knee, shoving an arm beneath the dog's chest. But when he lifted, the dog's head hung at an awkward angle, its neck broken.

What kind of man could break a dog's neck while it was attacking him?

Daniel took off at a jog, leaving the dead dog and its owner in the shadows. The creature had to be hiding in one of the many recessed doorways that led into the textile factory. There was no way it could've gotten away that fast.

When he passed the recesses and came upon Pearl Street, though, he was alone. He stopped in the glow of the street lamp, looking up Pearl toward the brightly-lit expressway, then down toward the dark and menacing waterfront.

Impossible as it seemed, the creature had disappeared. No living thing on earth could've run that fast. Not even a cheetah.
The creature had simply vanished, as if it was never even there to begin with.

Daniel turned and made his way home, passing the wounded dog and his master, who glanced up as he passed. He wanted to say something to the man. But what? He couldn't tell the guy that his dog had been killed by something not of this world.

Finally, he realized that there was only one thing he could say. He smiled at the man. "You saw me walkin' in the center of the street and thought I was the idiot, right?"