Bad Puppy

Horror Short

 

Bad Puppy

BY

Horror Writer41

 

Durk Village was a small peaceful private community before the killings started. It happened in the summer of 2003 over the course of three month’s.

 

It Starts

Carol Henderson stood on her front porch, her door open looking at her ripped up flowerbeds full of large paw prints. “Kenny, could you come out here please?”

           

Her husband Kenny was sitting in his recliner watching a college football game, “What? What do you want Carol, I’m watching the game.”           

 

Carol turned around and walked back inside, and into the living room. As she passed they’re small maple entertainment stand she turned off the TV, “Ken, the neighbors dog tore up my garden.”

           

Kenny stood up and walked over to Carol, reached past her and turned the TV back on. “I’ll go ask if they know what happened after the game is over.”

           

Carol turned and stomped off towards the still open front door, “If some one scratched your Mustang you would have flown out of that chair, but when it comes to my hobbies you just don’t care!”

 

`Kenny heard the door slam and looked over his shoulder out the large picture window, damn, there she goes, he thought, and then turned back to the game.

 

Carol walked across her front lawn towards her next-door neighbor Samantha’s house. She was careful to look for the evidence she needed along the way. In the small flowerbed between the two yards she spotted one of her prize roses torn to shreds, “Damn it,” she muttered. She bent down to pick up the stem and peddles, tears forming in her eyes as she stepped over a small Flowering Cactus.

 

Samantha Cain was in her kitchen drying the lunch dishes when the doorbell rang and her English springer spaniel Tipsy started barking insistently. “Just a minute.” She called out, not that anyone would be able to hear her from the kitchen through a closed door, much less with Tipsy making such a ruckus.

 

Carol stood on the porch waiting with the roses remains behind her back. Hearing the dog barking she gritted her teeth as the doorknob turned and the door opened.

 

“Hi Carol, what can I do for you?” Samantha asked politely as she smiled. They had known each other for years, but had never really gotten along, mostly because of petty differences.

 

“Hi Sam, did your dog get out of the yard last night?”

 

Samantha shook her head, “Not that I know of Carol, but I can ask David when he comes home from work if you like. Why do you ask?”

 

Carol pulled the rose out from behind her back and held it out to her, “This is why Sam. When I came out to check for the paper, I found my prize roses destroyed, and this in the flowerbed between our yards.”

 

Samantha shook her head, “Carol, anyone’s dog on this block could have done that, even a stray. Why would you want to blame poor Tipsy?”
           

Carol turned and dropped the rose on the steps as she walked off swearing under her breath. “Damn dog did it before, that’s why!”

 

Samantha shook her head and walked out, bending over she picked up the pieces of the rose and held them close to her nose, sniffing. “Nice.” She muttered to herself, “I wish Tipsy had done it.” She smiled as she turned and went back into her house and closing the door behind her.

 

Carol was steaming mad when she opened her front door and slammed it shut as she stepped through. “The nerve of that woman!”

 

Kenny sat forward and muted the TV, “Ok, what happened?”
           

Carol clenched her fist and shook them at the closed door, “She said she didn’t know and would ask David when he got home.”
           

Kenny tired not to laugh, “What’s wrong with that answer?”
           

Carol walked into the living room and stood in front of the TV again, “She knows she did it before Ken, she’s just hiding the fact that she got out again, probably on purpose! She’s always hated how I could grow beautiful flowers and she couldn’t!”

 

Ken sat forward shaking his head as he tried to cheer her up, “Dear you are much better than anyone around here at growing roses, hell, at growing anything, but it has been over two years since Tipsy got out and ruined those tulips. It was most likely a stray dog, it happens from time to time Honey.”

 

Carol unclenched her fist and put her hands up to her face and started crying, “But it’s the end of the growing season Ken.”

 

Kenny stood up and embraced her. He knew that was it for the rest of the game or any game for today. “There, there dear, it’ll be ok. Just grow man eating plants next year and feed her to them.”

 

Carol slapped Kenny on the shoulder as she broke into laughter, “Stop it Ken, that’s horrible, I wouldn’t do that, even if I could.”

Welcome to the Neighborhood

 

Down on the corner a new family watched as the movers unloaded the big white moving truck. The father stood smoking his pipe while his wife held their small son swinging him back and forth, “See baby, isn’t this a nice neighborhood?” She asked playfully.

 

Her husband turned and put his arm around her and pinched his sons cheek, “Hey slugger, lets go see your new bedroom.”

 

They all turned together and walked through the wide front door and headed for the winding staircase.

Later That Evening

It watched as the door opened and the pet was let out to do its business. It waited in the tree until the owner went inside, after a quick petting and shut the door.

 

Poor little Skippy started to whimper as he saw it slide down the tree backwards, its head looking over its shoulder, its claws scraping and popping small flakes of bark off as it did. Skippy sniffed the air before turning quickly and running for the safety of the doggie-door, instead being stopped by the locked aluminum panel, it wouldn’t open…

 

For a moment Skippy turned and found enough bravery for a short growl and raised lip, but only for a moment before the thing opened its mouth showing its saliva dripping teeth as it lunged.

 

It bit deeply into the animals’ neck and shook it in its mouth back and forth banging it against the door and a nearby planter as it tore a chunk out of its throat, its claws buried deep into the ribcage. The small dog had hardly made a sound.

 

The dog lay dead. The beast pinned the body down with its front paws and started tearing liberal bites out of it; hungrily it gulped them down without chewing as it shoved its head into the torn open body searching for the sweeter meats. It was about to take another bite when the porch light came back on and a human spoke loudly as he fumbled with the door lock, “What the hell is going on out there? Skippy?”

 

It tore a bite of intestines out, and turned and fled as fast as it could! Making the fence it scampered over just as a voice yelled out, “Hey, Oh my God, Skippy!” Jim Rickman heard his wife’s panicked approach to the kitchen from the dinning room

 

“Jim, what the hell is going on out there?”

 

“Tammy don’t come out here, some thing’s killed the dog.”

 

It moved down the alley bumping into a trashcan as it looked over its shoulder back the way it’d come. The sound frightened it causing it to spin and swipe at it with its front claws, tearing a four-clawed gash in the cheap plastic.

 

A flashlight beam came over the fence of the yard it had just left, it turned to run but slammed into another trashcan knocking it over, scaring it again, it spun away from it and out into the alleyway, right into the beam of light.

 

Jim looked at the face of the ugliest dog’s he had ever seen. Its eyes glowed some golden color he could not place, almost hypnotic, and its maw was covered in blood. It was holding what looked like sausage links, from his pet dog Skippy!

 

“You Son of a B***h!” He yelled! The dog turned and ran down the right side of the alleyways fence line, knocking more trashcans down half way down the alley before darting across the street at the end and turning right when it reached the street.

 

Jim turned trying not to vomit. He now could hear the screams of his wife Tammy, he hadn’t wanted her to see Skippy that way, what was left of him anyway. He climbed down from the fence and ran to her, “Honey go back inside the house and call the police, animal control, some one.”

 

Tammy started gagging, “What happen to him Jim?”

 

Jim shook his head as he spoke, “It was some big dog, it looked wild, rabid maybe. It took off down the alley.”

 

Tammy made to reach for her beloved Skippy, then drew her hand back and cried into it as she saw the look of terror on the little dogs face, “Oh Jim, cover him up until the police get here.”

 

Jim nodded, “Ok dear, just go inside, and if the kids wake up, keep them inside until they let us bag him up.”

His wife was shaking badly as she turned to leave. Jim could hear her sobs as she made her way into the living room to call the police.

 

Bright Sunny Day

Over the next few week’s five more dogs and three cats around the area disappeared or were found dead, torn to pieces. The city sent the dog warden to patrol every day, but only during the daylight hours. At night residents were told to keep their pets inside. For a while the killings stopped.

 

8:30 PM

Peter Wellington rubbed his Collie Daisy on the head as he sat on his small faded loveseat watching the evening news, “Well girl, it looks like its going to rain tomorrow.” Guess we’d better go and roll up the car windows before bed.”

 

Peter stood up stretching his old bones ached tonight; they always did before a good rainstorm. He headed through the dining room to the kitchen, Daisy in tow as always. He unlocked the side door leading to his driveway and stepped out into the night. Daisy stood watch at the open door like she always did, wagging her tail as Peter returned. After gently pushing his only companion for the last 3 years since his wife was taken by cancer, he closed the door and went to the sink to rinse a glass and get a drink of water. As he lifted the glass of cool tap water to his lips he heard a low growl and turned to see Daisy sniffing at the door insistently. “What is it girl?”

 

Daisy turned and wagged her tail, then scratched at the door playfully.

 

Peter looked out his side kitchen window. Sitting on the hood of his Lincoln Town Car licking its outstretched hind leg, was the big tabby from next door. He quickly slid the window up and yelled, “Get out of here ya damn cat! Git! Git!” The cat made no move to leave, but twitched its tail back and forth, seemingly annoyed by the intrusion. He didn’t want the cat scratching his hood up anymore. He had had to chase it off many times before. He even complained to the owner’s, Tim and Patty numerous times. Now he would handle it his way. Peter refilled his glass of water and headed for the kitchen door, pushing Daisy away as he slipped out, “Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty,”

 

The cat rolled onto its side purring offering Peter its back for a scratch, instead it got a face full of cold water. The cat flipped to its feet like a cartoon character its paws slid in place as it tried to run away on the now wet surface finding no traction, finally digging into the paint the hood of the Lincoln deeply as it tried to its escape. It finally slid off onto the driveways weather coated top and ran towards its home.

 

Peter almost threw the glass at it he was so mad. He’d come out to scare it away and ended up causing it to ruin his paint job, again! He wasn’t going to have this, no not at all. He headed for his neighbors front door.

 

When he got there his neighbor Tim was just coming out.

 

“Peter, what happened to Patches he just ran in the back door all wet?”

 

Peter was caught off guard for a moment, the glass still in his hand, then pointed to him self with it, “I did it! That damn cat of yours won’t stay off the hood of my car and this time he scratched it up really bad! You’re going to pay for it this time Tim! You’re gonna pay!”

 

Tim quickly lifted his hands palms outward, “Calm down Peter, if Patches did any damage I’ll pay for it, if you can prove it was him that is?”

 

Peters face flushed red with anger, “Prove it! Prove it! I saw the damn thing sitting there!”

 

Tim was about to shut the door in his yelling neighbors face, when they both heard the sound of breaking glass coming from Peters house!

 

Peter turned, “What the hell?”

 

He started walking towards his driveway, Tim following close behind.

 

Sixty-eight year old Peter brought his hands up to his face as it twisted in horror. He saw the blood soaked body of Daisy thrown into the air and smash into one of his kitchen cabinets. “Oh my God! Daisy!” He yelled, just before he clutched his chest and fell to the ground!

 

Tim screamed for help from his wife as he bent down and checked Peters pulse, “Patty! Patty call an ambulance Peter is having a heart attack!” He looked back towards the house and saw Daisy’s bloody form desperately trying to climb out the closed kitchen window, when something jerked her back down out of sight “Patty, call the damn police!” As he watched blood few into the air and splattered the cabinets and walls. He could hear the yelps and cries of Daisy as she fought valiantly to survive. He couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.

 

Tim ran back to his house and into the entry hall, he jerked open the coat closet and pulled out his alloy baseball bat and headed back out the door.

 

Patty ran out the door behind him, “Tim, the police want to know what’s going on?”

 

Tim turned back sliding to a stop, “Tell them Pete had a heart attack and something is killing his dog right in his kitchen!”

 

“Dear God,” she breathed. Patty relayed the message to the officer as Tim ran to Peters’ side door and pulled it open. The lights were flickering casting evil shadows across the blood-covered walls and cabinets. “Daisy? Daisy,” he called softly into the now dimly lit room. Tim stepped inside; almost slipping as he did on some blood splattered by the entrance.

 

He heard a sound off to his left and turned quickly towards the dining room just in time to see the front end of Daisy’s body being dragged around the corner into the living room. “Oh God, Oh God, Daisy,” he whispered as he moved forward slowly, bat held up on his right shoulder at the ready. He moved slowly into and through the small dining room, checking the room as he went. The one chair sitting at the table now where two had been only a few years ago, when Tim had had happier retired neighbors, now only a lonely old man.

He moved slower as he rounded the corner into the living room, no longer hearing any sounds from Daisy. Without warning something large, heavy and wet smashed into him knocking him to floor, and causing him to lose his grip on the bat. When he focused his eyes he could see Daisy’s body torn body straddling his chest, feel the wetness from her blood. He pushed the mangled body off of him and felt to his side for the bat.

 

He could hear the low growl of some animal, he quickly rolled onto his side in the direction of the sounds to face it with his hands up in front of him, ready for the attack he knew would come. It was there, not five feet away, its matted fur standing on edge, its back arched, its teeth snapping as its head shook back and forth throwing saliva in all directions splattering the walls with that and the blood that still dripped from its jaws as it snared!

 

Men In Blue

 

The police car slammed its breaks sliding to a stop right outside Peters house. Tim hadn’t realized that the sirens were coming down the street until then. Tim looked over at the dog. He could see its eyes darting towards the kitchen door, and back to him! It gave a snarling bark snapping its teeth closed and turned faster than anything he had ever seen before, and ran.

 

By the time the officers reached the kitchen a loud glass shattering smash came echoing from the back of the house!

 

Tim rolled over and grabbed his bat holding it out before him at the ready!

 

The officers slipped and slid across the kitchen floor as they called out in a stern voice, “Police! Come out with your hands up!”

 

Tim stood up, still holding the bat as he rounded the corner heading for the kitchen, “It’s ok, I think it busted out a back window and escaped.”

 

The first officer clicked the hammer back on his 9 MM, “Now I want you to put the bat down slowly Sir.”

 

The beast never looked back as it jumped the back fence, this time avoiding the trashcans scattered the length of the alley as it made its way down the block. It still felt the hunger pulling at its soul. It needed to feed more. It had been weeks since it had had its fill.

 

The cat had just jumped down from the fence after a hard night of scavenging for scraps. In the split second it sensed the danger it was in the mouth of the beast being carried off, its spine snapped it hung limply unable to breath from the crushing pressure of its attacker.

 

The beast had its meal to hold it for tonight. It headed for its den to eat, and to rest until the next nights feeding.

The Fitzpatrick’s

Margaret Fitzpatrick lay sleeping when she heard bumping noise come from down stairs. She quickly rubbed her eyes looking around; the sound came again, something moving around, bumping into furniture. She turned over and shook her husband, “Henry, Henry wake up!”

 

Henry rolled over, “What is it dear?”

 

There’s something moving around down stairs banging into things.”

 

Henry threw the covers off and rolled out of bed, “We’d better have a look.”

 

Henry slid his slippers on and went to the closet and pulled out a golf club, “Nine Iron should do,” he offered to no one, then, “Honey, go check the baby.”

 

Henry made his way to the top of the stairs. He looked over the railing, but couldn’t see anything. He started to make his way down, step-by-step, careful to be quite. At the dark bottom landing to the first floor he heard a commotion ahead and off to his left in the family room. He ducked low and crept down the short hallway. At the doorway he stopped.

 

He could hear it moving as it thrashed around, banging into a table causing a lamp to fall with a crash, and the bulb to pop.

 

He carefully reached for the light switch, sliding his hand up the wall until he touched the familiar toggle as he prepared to pounce on the intruder. He flicked the light and jumped into the room! Before him the large beast crouched, a dead cat in its mouth, the whole family room covered in blood, the carpet, the sofa and loveseat, even the TV, all covered in blood. He dropped the golf club as the beast snarled and showed its teeth.

 

The beast tried to back away towards the kitchen; it didn’t see the woman standing behind it with her hand raised high above her head!

 

Margaret swung downwards as hard as she could, bringing the rolled newspaper down hard on the flanks of the beast over and over again! “Bad Puppy! Bad Puppy!”

 

The beast dropped the dead cat and rolled into a ball whimpering as she scolded it. It then rolled onto its back and begged for forgiveness but Margaret was unrelenting as she spoke.

 

“I’ve had it Norman, go to your room, this is the last time!”

 

The beast body contorted and flexed, the fur falling off and dissolving as the form shrunk and changed into that of a blood covered little five-year-old boy, sobbing.

“I’m sorry mommy, I’m sorry.”

 

His mother tapped the newspaper in her hand insistently, “How many times have I told you not to play with your food? Just look at this mess, just look at it!”

 

Norman ran to his father, “Daddy I’m sorry.”

 

Henry rubbed his head, and then looked at his hand now also covered in blood, “Son, go wash up, then off to bed, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” With a playful swat on the butt he sent his son off.

 

Margaret shook her head as she waved her hands around the room, just look at this place, it’ll take hours to clean, if we can. What would our new neighbors say?”

 

Henry smiled, “Honey, he’s just learning, it’s not easy being a Lycan in modern society, especially for a child his age.”

 

Margaret stepped forward and hugged her husband before leaning slightly away from him to look into his eyes; “He gets this from your side of the pack you know.”

 

THE END

Author's Note

I'm not sure if I posted this one before, but have fun with it, all comments welcome.