Black Dog

A stale smell lingers in the humid air. Faded white paint flakes from the walls and ancient cobwebs cling to the wire mesh covering a lonely skylight. A stainless steel chair is incongruous as the one pristine object, positioned in the centre, of the small, square room and Michael is seated on its black PVC. A doctor waits with his hand on a syringe and a vicar stands beside him muttering incomprehensibly. Onlookers in the public gallery shout and mock, pointing and jeering.

There is a cannula attached to a vein in the back of Michael's left hand. He struggles, but he is bound fast; he tries to scream but there is no sound. The Governor nods his head and the doctor presses down slowly, but forcefully, on the syringe...

Michael wakes with a start. Early morning light causes a broken shadow to be cast on the wall as it shines through the bars of his cell window. Crawling from his bed he surveys the empty room. All his belongings are packed in large transparent plastic bags; all but his razor and a bar of soap which are wrapped in a towel. He splashes cold water in his eyes and looks in the mirror.

"I'm not going to believe this until it happens," he says to himself as he scrapes the stubble from his face.

Sitting quietly on the bed, Michael waits for what seems like a lifetime before an officer arrives to unlock the door. Carrying his plastic bags, Michael makes his way down the corridor and a smile of realisation creeps across his face.

"I am going home," he says under his breath.

Then, unable to contain himself, he jumps and shouts to the other inmates,

"Boys, I'm going home!"

"Hey, you're not out yet," says the officer sternly as he unlocks another gate which leads finally to the discharge room. He gives Michael a rub down search and then beckons to another officer who is holding a dog on a lead. Michael has never met this officer before. He looks rather scrawny with greasy, swept back hair, a large nose and deep set, dark eyes. He wears a crucifix on a tight silver chain around his neck. The dog presses its nose into Michael's crotch, around his legs and into the palm of his hands. It growls at him, but is pulled away by the officer who gives Michael a wide, insincere grin.

"You're a lucky man," announces the discharge clerk as he hands over a watch,

some coins and a wedding ring.

"I know that sir." Michael goes red in the face and scratches the back of his hand. He is lead to the huge front gates. A small steel door opens in the gates and he steps carefully through.

"Be seein' ya," says the officer giving Michael a single, slow wave as his dog looks on. The door closes and Michael is free.

He turns to face the hot summer sun, raises his hand to shield his eyes and lets out a sigh. It's not long before a car pulls up. Sarah is at the wheel. The little girl who has been sitting in the back seat clambers out and runs to Michael smothering him in kisses and jumping around him.

"Amy, how are you sweetheart?" says Michael softly.

"I'm ok Daddy, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Sarah sits for a moment gripping the steering wheel, then looks up and smiles. Michael gets in and leans over to give her a kiss. She offers her cheek without affection. They drive away with the windows down in peaceful silence.

Michael wakes. It is still dark. He turns his head to see his wife sleeping next to him and smiles. Getting up he makes his way to the bathroom. Outside he can hear a dog barking and, lying back in bed, the bark begins to irritate him. He lies motionless for some time before getting up again and moving to the window. He is unnerved to see a man with a dog in the street below looking directly up at him. The moon is bright and something glints briefly around the man's neck. Sarah stirs,

"What's the matter Mike?"

Michael turns to her but says nothing, climbs back in to bed and runs his hand inside her nightdress.

Next morning, Sarah is cooking breakfast. The sun shines through the soft, white net curtains, sparkles on work surfaces and dances off chrome pans and silver spoons. Michael leans on the table watching his wife as the sun silhouettes the contours of her body through her thin dress. Amy plays with their small, white, pet dog on the rug and giggles as she teases it.

"I used to dream about days like this," says Michael.

Sarah smiles back at him. The window is open and a soft breeze gently lifts the net curtain. Michael watches as a fly escapes under it and into the kitchen. It buzzes around his head and he swats at it. Eventually he becomes frustrated and takes a magazine to the fly, crushing it on the fridge door. Sarah throws him a glance.

That evening, Michael is one of the last to leave the downtown office where he has started work. He takes the lift down to the underground car park. As he leaves the lift and turns a corner, he is surprised by a security guard with a large dog.

"Good evening sir."

Michael nods and walks on, making no reply; but the dog fixes on him and starts to bark, pulling hard at its lead. Michael quickens his pace but by now the dog is frantic; salivating and barking. It pulls so hard that it breaks away from the guard and starts chasing Michael through the car park. Michael runs as fast as he can towards his car. He trips and drops his brief case but continues to run. Pressing the remote control on his key he grabs for the door, making it inside just as the dog smashes up against the driver's window, covering it in white, frothy saliva, barking, whining and scratching at the glass. Michael is rooted to his seat, hands on the wheel, sweating, unable to start the engine. Some moments later the security guard grabs hold of the dog and manages to control it.

The guard, leans down toward the driver's window, "Is everything all right sir?"

"Yes, yes, thank you. I'm fine now, just fine." Michael shivers as he notices a silver chain around the guard's neck. It is some time before he drives away.

Back at home Michael is resting watching tv on the sofa - some program about Ancient Egypt and how they used to take major organs out before mummification and bury them in jars with the body - Michael notices the gold statues of dogs in one of the tombs and feels uncomfortable as they come to life briefly in front of his eyes. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen to grab a beer but finds the kitchen filled with flies swarming around dog faeces on the floor.

"What the hell?"

Storming back in to the tv room, where the little dog is lying on a rug, he kicks it a foot off the ground. It runs away yelping.

"What d'ya do that for?" Sarah shouts.

"Stupid dog s**t all over the kitchen," mutters Michael, rubbing his forehead. He goes back to the kitchen and clears up, scooping the dog mess into a black bin liner and spraying fly killer everywhere. Flopping down on the sofa again, Michael sighs and scratches the back of his hand.

"What's the matter with you Mike? Is something wrong? You don't look right."

"Just tired I guess." There is no more discussion and Michael eventually falls asleep in front of the tv.

When he wakes, the tv and the lights are off and he decides to make his way up to bed. As he climbs the stairs he becomes aware of a moaning sound. It gets more audible the closer he gets to the bedroom. Walking slowly to the door he gently pushes it open. He can scarcely believe what confronts him. Sarah is lying there with another man. She is moaning with ecstasy as the man writhes silently on top of her. Michael strains to see clearly in the dark and rubs his eyes. Shaking with fury he walks towards the couple as their passions reach climactic intensity, but as he reaches out the man turns to face him. He is no longer human but animal; a fierce black dog, snarling and frothing. Michael falls back, on to the floor. The creature continues to penetrate his wife, scratching and biting at her neck, drawing blood as it does so. Sarah, head back, eyes closed, pulls the animal further and deeper into her. Michael screams out.

He wakes up alone in his chair. The lights and tv are still on. Sarah comes in to the room.

"I heard you shout. You ok?"

"You should have woken me,"

"You just looked like you were resting in peace, that's all. I didn't want to disturb you,"

They go up to bed, but as Michael goes to close the curtains he notices the man with the dog standing, silently in the street looking up at him again. He quickly runs downstairs and flings the front door open, but the man and his dog have disappeared into the night. He makes his way back upstairs, climbs into bed and holds Sarah close.

"I know I never told you before but, I'm sorry, you know, for what happened."

"What did happen Mike?"

"I don't know. Thought you didn't love me; I was afraid you were having an affair.

You know how angry I get sometimes; I just can't control it. It got me down and I couldn't get myself back up again. I just lost it and I don't know why because all I ever wanted was to take care of you. I love you, I know I do, but I get scared."

Next morning Michael is sitting in the tv room when the door bell rings. Answering it, Michael is surprised to see the postman standing in front of him with a letter in one hand and a dog on a lead in the other. Michael signs for the letter eyeing them both all the while. The dog stares back, saliva dripping from its mouth, pacing on the spot from paw to paw, as if waiting for something. The postman gives Michael a wide grin as he hands over the letter. It's addressed to Sarah. He closes the door and takes it to his wife who is in the kitchen. She opens the card inside and reads,

"Dear Sarah and Amy, the nightmare is nearly over and we will be back together very soon. I hope we can be a family again. Love Michael xx."

"That's odd," says Michael, "I remember writing it but I don't recall putting it in the mail."

Then turning away he hears a scream. Michael rushes to the tv room. He sees Amy lying on the floor with their pet dog on top of her.

"Get off, get off her!" he shouts and grabs it by the fur throwing it across the room.

"Daddy! He was only playing with me. We were having fun. Poor little thing."

There is a pause. Amy sobs quietly to herself. Michael sits on the sofa with his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. You wanna go out? Let's go out, I'll take you for ice cream, come on."

Michael and Amy walk through the park. She looks up and smiles at her dad, but he is staring straight ahead. There are lots of people out in the sun with their dogs; families with children, couples, old ladies. As they walk, every dog seems to stop what it's doing and stare deep into Michael. He raises his hands to shield his eyes from them and starts walking faster. But it doesn't matter how fast he walks, there are dogs all around him, ahead, behind and to the sides. They all begin to look the same; big, black, angry animals baring teeth and pulling at their leads. Michael is sweating and grips Amy's hand.

"Daddy you're hurting me." Michael doesn't hear her.

Some of the dogs are not on leads and one comes bounding up to them. Michael pulls Amy close to him and wraps his arms around her.

"Get away, get away. Leave her alone, don't you touch her." People begin to stare.

"You should keep them on a lead!" he screams at the crowd. Amy is frightened.

"Let me go! Get off me!" She wrenches herself free and starts running away.

"Amy!" shouts Michael after her, but Amy continues running.

"Amy!" Michael sits down on the path crying uncontrollably.

"Amy, come back," he whispers to himself as the tears fall.

Sarah is planting flowers in the front garden and Amy is playing with the little dog, when Michael eventually returns. They both stop what they are doing and glare at him. He looks back sheepishly and walks through the house to the back garden, where he sits, staring into space until darkness draws in. Night brings flashes of red which make him blink and rub his eyes. He hears screams and the sound of dogs barking. Blood spattered walls lean in, crushing him. He is blinded with dark red smears of death and deafened by terrifying, screams of fear. He starts punching his temples with his fists. Suddenly, all he can hear is rattling and scratching; vigorous and incessant. Michael stands and sees the high gate in the garden fence shaking back and forth. He rushes over, pulls up the latch, opens it and steps into the lane. Shades of night dance and play all around him and he thinks he sees the dark shadow of a dog disappearing behind the bins and long grass. Making his way back inside he takes a beer out of the fridge and sits at the kitchen table drinking. Still, outside, deep in the night, Michael can hear the distant sound of a dog's bark.

The following day Michael sits at his desk going monotonously and obliviously through the day. His eyes are black, his clothing is dirty and creased, his hands shake and he can't stop sweating. Driving back along the highway he is listening to the radio. It's a talk show about recycling and how we should be reusing broken and useless materials. Michael notices a fly hit the windscreen. It is right in his field of vision so he turns on the wipers. But just as he turns them off again another fly hits the screen in the same spot, then another and another. Michael turns the wipers on again and tries to rid the windscreen of dead flies. But the more he cleans the more flies hit. Eventually he is overwhelmed and the windscreen is completely covered with the remains of dead flies. He can't see. The car veers from side to side on the road as Michael struggles to keep control. He applies the brake which sends the car skidding into a spin. Other drivers

swerve to avoid a collision. Michael's car slides off the road and rolls down a bank, bouncing Michael off the steering column and coming to rest on its wheels in a shallow ditch. Michael is left unconscious, blood dripping from his eyebrow, down his nose and on to his fingers.

Michael fights to open his eyes and finds himself in bed. He turns to Sarah but there's an empty space where she should be. He reaches out only to feel the sheets covered in blood. He shouts and jumps out of bed, catching his breath and steadying himself on the window sill. Then, running from the bedroom, he feels the carpet soaked underfoot, blood seeping between his toes. He staggers along the landing, tumbles down the stairs and, looking up sees, scrawled in huge bloody letters, the words,"I hate you" on the walls. Michael crawls to the front door and pulls himself up by the handle. He tries to get out but the door is locked. Over and over he can see the words "I hate you" hanging like deadly wall paper all around him. When he reaches the kitchen, Sarah and Amy are lying, dumped on the floor, torn to pieces and decomposing. There are flies everywhere. Michael collapses and drags himself towards the bodies, eyes wide. He bows his head a moment before taking a deep breath and looking into the face of his wife who suddenly opens her eyes and locks her dead gaze upon him. Michael screams and wakes up in a hospital bed with Sarah looking over him.

"It's ok, it's ok, the doctor's here".

"Don't worry Mr Mason." The doctor draws clear liquid from an ampule into a syringe.

"After this you won't feel a thing," and he pushes the serum into a cannula attached to a vein in the back of Michael's hand. He feels his eyes gently closing and when he opens them he is sitting on a grass bank, by a river, in open country. Sarah and Amy are on the other side, dressed in light, white cotton dresses. They laugh and play together, picking flowers and playing catch. Michael smiles and decides to join them. He edges his way down the bank to the river and wades in. The current is faster and stronger than he had imagined, and as he makes his way to the middle it becomes much deeper too. Michael looks over to Sarah as a man in a white coat approaches her.

"How did it happen Doctor?"

"Well, we're not sure. He muttered something about flies on the windscreen when he was admitted, but the police say the windscreen was completely clear when they examined the car," Suddenly, Michael loses his footing.

He calls out to Sarah but she doesn't hear him.

He shouts again, "Sarah!" to no response.

The current is dragging him under. He drifts further downstream and soon Sarah and Amy are out of sight. Struggling he quickly loses strength and slips below the waterline. His movement slows and Michael begins breathing in water. In a last desperate attempt, Michael reaches out. His hand breaks the surface, his eyes stare wildly, and with a sharp intake of breath he sits bolt upright in bed.

Michael is still in hospital. It's early evening. He gets up and walks to the window for some air. He can see right across town. It's still busy with people making their way home after work or going out for the evening. There is the remains of a fantastic sunset on the horizon, although the dark of night now dominates the sky and rain clouds are rolling in.

He looks down to the hospital car park. A car pulls away and as it turns the headlights shine on a security guard patrolling the grounds with his dog. The dog barks at the car and then turns, as if distracted, to look directly up at Michael. The security guard also looks up, smiles and gives Michael a slow, single wave of his hand. They stare at each other for what seems like an age until Michael's legs give way. He can clearly hear barking, but the dog he is looking at is just staring at him, not barking at all. Still wearing his hospital gown, Michael runs out of the ward, down four flights of stairs and out of a side door. Rain has started to fall. The barking is louder now and as he runs he begins to hear screaming and shouting. Cars skid in the wet, swerve to avoid him or screech to a halt in front of him, blinding him in the beam of their headlights. The closer he gets to his house the more aggressive and intense the barking and shouting becomes. Scrambling over the lawn to the house he crashes up against the large front window to see Amy and Sarah inside face to face with a huge black dog. The dog jumps on top of his daughter.

"No! No! NO!" Michael desperately searches for a way to get in. Finding a spade in the flower beds, he picks it up and swings it from his side bringing it full force on to the window, smashing it at the first attempt. Sarah and Amy are terrified.

"Over here, get over here!" shouts Michael climbing in. Amy and Sarah make a dash for the front door as Michael lifts the spade and swings at the dog. He misses and falls flat. The dog runs past him to the door. Sarah and Amy have made it out on to the lawn and are screaming for help. Michael is soaked through. He has cut himself on the window glass and the hospital gown is shredded. Blood drips from his hands as he grabs the spade again. The dog has turned and is standing in the doorway, teeth bared, growling at Michael who lunges at it smashing the spade down and cracking its nose. The dog backs away out of the house yelping in pain but still standing facing Michael.

People are starting to come out of their homes as Michael steps forward and lifts the spade once more. This time he brings it down full on the dog's head and its body bounces on the turf. Michael is rampant. He beats the animal repeatedly, smashing its bones and crushing its body. Sarah and Amy look away in horror, tears streaming from their faces as they cling to each other. Finally Michael collapses, exhausted, into the mud. He closes his eyes, head bowed, sweat and blood dripping on to the body of the dog lying beneath him. The rain continues to fall, steady but relentless.

Slowly and tearfully, Amy approaches her father. She looks down on the scene and sobs,

"Daddy, why did you kill my dog?"

It takes a moment for Michael to register what Amy has said. He opens his eyes and looks down to see his blood dripping on to the white fur of their little pet. Very quickly, Michael is fully aware of everything and everyone around him. He kneels up to face the onlookers and realizes he is virtually naked. Bright car headlights briefly illuminate the scene as they pass, like spotlights to a stage. Michael can do nothing but kneel, arms by his side, naked, mouth and eyes wide, staring straight ahead. Cars go by and lights flash with increasing intensity; faster and faster, brighter and brighter, strobe-like in his eyes. He lifts his hands to shield them...

The prison officer turns his torch away and moves on to the next cell. An old man gets up in the dark. It's early morning. He splashes cold water on to his face and sits quietly on the bed. A few moments later the cell door is unlocked and he is met by the Governor, two officers and a vicar. He holds tight to the silver crucifix around his neck and stands up. The corridor is still and silent as the man is led away past the other inmates.

"Who's that?" a young man whispers to his older cell mate.

"That? That's Michael Mason. We call him Black Dog'."

"Why?"

"Police said he killed his wife and kid with his bare hands; ripped their faces off with his teeth; pulled their skin off with his fingernails. I don't know, but he stayed in that house, with their bodies rotting in the kitchen, for two months, 'til they broke in and found 'em. He was just sat there; didn't try to escape or nothin'. He told 'em the black dog did it. Kept sayin' it, 'black dog, black dog', over and over. Been here 28 years and ain't spoken another word to anyone the whole time. That's it. One crazy, fucked up son of a b***h, if you ask me."

In the old man's empty cell, lying on the bare mattress is a card. It reads:

"Dear Sarah and Amy, the nightmare is nearly over and we will be back together very soon. I hope we can be a family again. Love Michael xx."

Reviews

[John F Carver]

I thought it a very good story. The suspense is wonderful. Excellent job. A rare find.

[ChristianM]

Wow,
Extremely intense and suspenseful story. A bit disturbing at times but still, great job.
The way you wrote it escalated the suspense and mystery as the story went on.
Nicely done