Content Warning: Self Harm and Animal Abuse.
Hello, everyone. My name is Rebecca, and while I am a part of this story, the majority of it isn’t mine to tell. This is the story of what my client and close friend Greg and His dog Carver went through over the past few weeks, and what I went through towards the end of that timeline.
Greg was 32 years old, and a published author. I was his agent. He was single, as am I, though if things had gone differently, that probably wouldn’t have been the case for either of us much longer. He didn’t have kids, and he lived alone, with the exception of his dog Carver, a Belgian Malinois. He was very athletic and healthy, spending the majority of his time when he wasn’t busy writing out hiking in the mountains with Carver in tow, or fishing, biking, going to the gym, etc.
I’ll let him tell his story from here, through the journal he left behind. I will interject every so often while I convert his words from page to text if there is any context I can add, and where his journal cuts off, I’ll finish sharing the rest of what happened through my own words.
03/29/2024
I think there’s something wrong with my dog.
About a week ago, I was hiking in the Avalanche Lake area in my home state of Montana, when something odd happened.
I had let Carver off the leash to run wild and explore, but after losing track of him for a bit, I started calling out his name and looking for him in the tree line. I heard him bark in response, and upon making my way to him, I could see what he had found.
What kind of looked like a 3 foot tall boulder sat on the ground before him, though it’s dark-gray exterior looked oddly fleshy, and it was cracked open at the top, with trails of green ooze running down its side.
Carver sniffed the green ooze, staring at it intently, and then began licking it up.
“Hey, leave it,” I called out to him, stepping closer and reaching out to grab him.
He turned and snapped, biting my outstretched hand and sinking his teeth briefly into my flesh before pulling back.
“What the fuck!?” I snapped in pain. He had never bitten anyone before or shown any aggression, except for during his training classes where he was learning how to defend against intruders or attackers, and was supposed to be aggressive in that moment.
He turned back to licking at the ooze without hesitation, and I reached out again with a now bloody hand, grabbing him by the collar, yanking him back, and clipping his leash back to it.
He whined and fought against me, yanking at the leash and crying out as he desperately tried to go back to licking the ooze, something he had also never done before due to his intense leash training as a puppy. It took quite a bit of strength to pull him away, and I decided to end the day early, immediately hiking back to the car and dragging Carver along behind me.
All night after we got home, he would just stand at the front door, staring past it, and whining, and I could only help but imagine he was desperate to get back to the ooze. He would even refuse to eat or drink water, and wouldn’t come to his dog bed in the bedroom when I went to sleep like he does every night.
When I woke up the next day, he was acting pretty normal and had clearly slept on his bed in the living room, but every time I’d try to go near him, he’d back away and either whine like he was in fear, or bark aggressively if I pushed the issue and got too close.
He would normally sit right next to me and watch as I poured his food, immediately digging in once I was done, but now to get food or water, he waits until I’m several feet away and he keeps one eye on me at all times.
I keep catching him hiding from me, watching me from around corners or from under my bed, not wanting anything to do with me, and acting like he’s afraid of me.
I called the vet and told her about his weird behavior, and what had happened in the mountains, leaving out the fact that he bit me, out of fear of them reporting him or something, and she told me to bring him in for a check up.
Every time I’d try to leash him up to take him, however, he would run away from me, or even get aggressive to the point I’d worry he was going to attack me.
I ended up paying the expensive fee to have a house call vet come over to check on him instead, and although he still acted strange towards me, he was nothing but friendly to the vet, and after the check up, the vet told me everything seemed fine, but noted that he was treating me like how he would someone that consistently abused him.
I took some offense to that, as I’ve never even hit him once, and never would. He’s my best friend, I love him, and take great care of him. But I understood where the vet was coming from.
The vet told me I should try to get a sample of the ooze he consumed to have it tested, but other than that, he didn’t really know what else could be done.
He did note the white bandage wrapped around my right hand and the bit of blood staining it, and asked me if he bit me, but I lied, worried that he would try to have him put down or something if I admitted it, and instead said I had cut it while doing some work around the house.
I went back to the mountains the next day, leaving Carver at home this time, but when I made my way to the area we had found the boulder at, it and any evidence of it being there, besides the small crater in the ground, were gone.
I did notice, however, that there was a small military presence in the area that was not there before, but rather then let my mind race with conspiracy theories, I just decided that they were there conducting training exercises of some sort.
Returning home, Carver growled at me as if I were an intruder upon entering my own house.
I removed the bandaging wrapped around my hand after a few days, seeing that the area around the bite was starting to turn a greenish-gray hue, and that the teeth punctures were refusing to heal.
I went to the doctor’s about it, and they gave me some antibiotic cream and pills, and treated the wound the best they could. They said that they don’t know what sort of infection I have, and that it’s not gangrene or anything like that, but some sort of weird skin reaction my body is having, telling me that the antibiotics should take care of it.
They asked what bit me, and I told them that it was a stray dog. They insisted on me getting rabies shots, and I conceded to getting them, even though I knew Carver was not rabid. The shots have added another level of discomfort as well, causing me to feel very ill and have terrible nightmares.
The wound hasn’t begun improving yet, and the green-gray flesh has even began to peel off in patches, leaving behind the bloody and exposed flesh beneath.
Carver’s behavior has not only not improved, but has continued to worsen.
I don’t know what to do, I feel like I’m losing my best friend, and I don’t know why this is happening. It’s starting to seriously scare me. I’m afraid of my own dog and what is happening to him.
I think there’s something seriously wrong with my dog.
04/02/2024
I had a meeting with my agent Rebecca today.
My hand has gotten worse, the green-gray hue having spread to cover nearly the entire thing, all the flesh surrounding the original dog bite having peeled off and continued to refuse to heal. I’m definitely going to have to go back to the doctor, but I really didn’t want to miss this meeting, or go back on my plan. So, I sucked it up, disinfected and bandaged my hand, and then decided to wear some casual gloves, hoping Rebecca wouldn’t notice.
Carver continued to avoid me like the plague, even growling at me as I cautiously made my way by him to leave the house.
Of course, Rebecca did notice the gloves. She was a hyper intelligent and observant woman after all, as well as being stunningly beautiful, successful, and many other things that had caused my unprofessional crush on her to form.
Sitting there in front of her at the coffee shop, looking into her green eyes and seeing her beautiful blonde hair flowing down over her shoulders, my nerves began to grow exponentially. But as the meeting concluded, I worked up the courage to ask her if she would like to have dinner and drinks tonight at my place, as I had been planning on asking her for weeks.
To my surprise, she blushed, shyly smiled, averted her gaze as she pushed her hair back over her ear, and then said yes, that she would love that.
Rebecca interjection: I had been developing feelings for Greg as well for some time. He was smart, athletic, handsome, and extremely caring, his relationship with Carver in particular making me see how kind of a man he was inside. I wanted to pursue these feelings, but had decided it would be too unprofessional, though I always hoped he would ask me out and take the first step to make it easier for me to go along with it. So, when he finally did, I was ecstatic.
When we returned to my home, and I unlocked and opened the door to step inside, I was immediately greeted with Carver furiously barking at me and attempting to attack me.
I jumped back, having forgotten about his condition in the lovely company of Rebecca, keeping her behind me for her protection.
“What the hell?” Rebecca asked, she was familiar with Carver, as I normally brought him everywhere, even to meetings or outings with her, and she had never seen him behave so poorly.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” I said, keeping my distance as Carver stood in the doorway, staring deep into my eyes, as if he were staring into my soul, and emanating a low growl. “He’s been like this for over a week. He treats me like I’m some dangerous stranger trying to hurt him now, and I have no clue why.”
“Just you? He hasn’t been aggressive to anyone else?” Rebecca asked.
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Maybe I could try to calm him down?” Rebecca asked, knowing that Carver adored her.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But be careful.”
I stepped back a few more feet as Rebecca made her way forward. “Hey, buddy,” She said in a cutesy voice as she slowly approached Carver and bent down to greet him. “‘Member me?”
Carver dared to avert his eyes from me to her for a brief time, letting out a pleading whine, and beginning to furiously wag his tail.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s my good boy.” Rebecca moved in and began scratching at his neck and behind his ears.
“Do you think you could get him out back?” I asked nervously, feeling like a coward for letting Rebecca protect me from my own dog, but not knowing what else to do.
Carver looked back to me as I spoke, his lips curling inward to reveal his sharp teeth to me.
“Let’s go play outside, boy,” Rebecca said sweetly, taking a firm hand hold of his collar and leading him inside and towards the sliding glass door. “That’s it, come on, buddy. Good boy.”
Rebecca led him outside and shut the sliding glass door behind him.
I now felt safe stepping back into my own home, but as soon as I did, Carver immediately began leaping into the glass, his claws scraping off it as he barked furiously at me, causing Rebecca to jump.
“What has gotten into him?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The vet said he’s fine, but he’s been acting either aggressive towards me or terrified of me for over a week. I don’t really know what to do about it.”
“I wonder if something happened,” Rebecca pondered as she looked back in Carver’s direction.
“Yeah, I wonder,” I said. “But anyway, let’s not let it get to us right now.” I forced a smile.
“Right,” She agreed with a playful nod, spinning on her feet back to face me.
“Let’s turn on some music to drown that out,” I pointed to the barking Carver. “And let’s get you a glass of wine.”
Rebecca smiled.
We chatted casually as we sipped down glasses of wine, listened to classics like Clair De Lune, and I cooked us a dinner of shrimp pasta, steamed broccoli, and French bread with olive oil and vinegar to dip it in.
We ate in relative peace, chatting and laughing the night away, as Carver had seemed to give up outside, only occasionally looking at Rebecca through the curtain and crying, or at me and lowly growling.
Rebecca even asked me if I would like to dance, later into the night, and I gladly accepted, romantically slow dancing with her to classical music as we spoke softly about the more intimate details of our lives to one another.
As I walked her to her car to end the night, I wanted nothing more than to share our first kiss, but with everything going on with me and Carver, and the extra level of concern with our professional lives being so intertwined, I decided it was best to wait for now, instead sharing a long hug with her before wishing her goodnight, and watching her drive away.
Rebecca interjection: At the time, I wished he had kissed me.
Returning back inside, in an extremely good mood, I decided to give Carver yet another chance, letting him back in.
He immediately growled and moved for me in an aggressive manner, and I took a step back, instinctively raising my hands.
But then I snapped, pissed off that he almost ruined my big night with Rebecca, and was now killing my good mood. “Cut this shit out, right now!” I screamed as I pointed at his face, my voice echoing around the house in a surprisingly powerful roar. I had never heard myself sound that fearsome before.
Carver whined, taking a step back, and then he began desperately looking around, as if he was worriedly searching for Rebecca.
He found the trail of her scent and followed it around some before heading to the front door, sniffing it over, turning around to face me, and then plopping his butt down, almost as if he was purposely positioning himself between me and her.
My head and hand began to ache, so I made my way to the bathroom to check my wound.
I removed the gloves from my hand that I had awkwardly worn all night, thankful Rebecca seemed to forget after her initial questioning of why I was wearing them, and then unwrapped the bandage around my right hand.
The green-gray hue now covered my entire right hand and was making its way up onto my forearm. The flesh was peeling away more and more, the entire back of my hand almost having peeled off now. And when I rubbed my tingling and numb feeling fingernails, they slid right off.
I needed to return to the doctor’s tomorrow for my second to last rabies shot, so I would have them check over my hand again and figure out what to do then.
I feel like I should be more worried, but I can’t help but be happy. I finally had a date with my multi-year long crush, and that was what mattered most to me at this moment.
Though, as I hear Carver alternate between growling and whining out by the front door, I can’t help but worry about what’s happening to him.
I think there’s something wrong with my dog.
04/03/2024
Looking over my wound in the bathroom before stepping into the shower this morning, I noticed that the green-gray hue had now spread to other parts of my body.
My left hand, both my legs, and various areas of my torso and abdomen were now discolored in the same fashion, the skin beginning to peel.
My right hand was nearly devoid of the top layer of skin now, and as I peeled at the flesh on my finger tips, it easily but painfully peeled off to reveal the bones of my fingertips beneath.
It was strange though, they were sharper than I had imagined they would be, almost like claws made of bone.
I know I should be more concerned about what’s happening to me, but I can’t stop thinking about my night with Rebecca and smiling. Or about what’s happening to Carver and worrying.
I think there’s something wrong with my dog.
After showering, I treated my wounds and covered up the best that I could. I decided to hide the spread of the green-gray hue and the peeling from the doctors as I went in for my next rabies shot. I didn’t want them to worry about me like how I am worried about Carver. And besides the intense pain, I feel fine. I doubt there’s anything to truly be concerned about.
When I returned home from the doctor’s, Carver acted more aggressive than ever before, even biting at the legs of my pants and trying to drag me around. I had to kick him off, and then I made my way into the bathroom to be away from him.
He scratched and bit at the bathroom door from outside, whining and growling as he tried to get to me.
I screamed for him to shut up, and he whined, but continued scratching at the door.
I took off my gloves and bandaging, gripping the sink firmly to calm my building rage, and let out a shrieking roar that carried through the house and caused my ears to ring.
Carver whined again and took off this time. I could even hear his claws skittering across the hard wood.
I looked down as I felt a peeling in my hands, and my knuckles on both hands had broken through my skin and were now sticking up out of it as blood trickled down around each one.
That was curious, I didn’t know your knuckles could continue to grow and get bigger into your thirties, but it appeared they had outgrown the covering that was my useless flesh.
I don’t really think I need it anymore, so I’ve began peeling it off in patches where the green-gray hue that I’m beginning to adore makes it easier for me to. I’m glad it’s continuing to spread, so I can get this nasty flesh off me. I don’t need it anymore.
I’m worried about Carver though and his behavior.
I think there’s something wrong with my dog.
04/04/2024
Rebecca interjection: This page was badly drenched in blood, with bits of flesh stuck to it.
I decided not to go to the doctor’s for my last rabies shot today. I know I don’t need it, Carver doesn’t have rabies, even if there is something seriously wrong with him.
Rebecca has been texting me more than usual since our dinner, which always puts a smile on my face.
I’ve been texting her back, even if it’s hard with all the blood and without my fingertips, and reciprocating when she tells me how much she enjoyed our night together, but I’ve been avoiding making future plans for now. I don’t want her to see me again until I get all this nasty skin off. And I certainly don’t want her around Carver while he’s still acting insane.
I think there’s something wrong with my dog.
He sprinted at me today, barking furiously, and leaping onto me, viciously snapping his teeth at me, attempting to bite my throat or face.
I somehow managed to easily hold him off, even though I was in a lot of pain and very ill, I felt good, stronger than before. I threw him across the room and he slammed to the hard wood, skidding across the floor.
I then ran for the bathroom and locked myself inside.
He continuously leapt at the bathroom door, tearing it apart and barking ferociously as he attempted to get to me, but I just went back to peeling my old skin off.
I started pulling out my old teeth now, too. They have been wiggling uncomfortably and feeling loose. When I pull them out, I notice that sharper, better ones, had been pushing themselves out of my gums from underneath. I’m glad they’re free to grow now.
I can feel my bones breaking and reforming now as well, changing how I move, how I stand, how I look. I didn’t know they could do that at this age, but I guess I’m still growing. I wonder if Rebecca will like my new shape more. I bet she will.
But Carver keeps getting in the way of my transformation and my relationship with her.
I’m beginning to hate my stupid dog.
04/09/2024
Rebecca interjection: This page was not only drenched in blood, but was completely cut up, with the words written in varying sizes and almost differing types of hand writing.
I stopped responding to Rebecca, I think she thought that meant I’m no longer interested in her, which isn’t the case at all, because she went back to only talking about work stuff, but I haven’t been responding to that either.
I tried to explain to her before that I’m just really busy right now, and that Carver is really worrying me, but I don’t know if she fully understands.
The doctor’s have been trying to get ahold of me also, but I won’t take their calls either.
Carver won’t leave me alone now. He tries to attack me anytime he sees me. Just to even get to the bathroom to finish peeling off the rest of my skin, I have to climb across the walls and the ceiling so that he can’t bite me.
I’m going to start locking him out back so that he no longer interferes with my transformation or tries to hurt me.
I’m getting sick of my eyes, so blurry and disorienting. I don’t even understand why I have them anyway, I see with echo location, what do I need these bothersome things for?
Maybe I’ll take them out after I’m finished removing the skin, should make it easier for me to get around, less confusing.
Carver won’t stop barking and screaming, slamming into the bathroom door, desperately trying to get to me while I try to peel the skin! I’m almost done, but he’s driving me crazy!
I’m going to kill my fucking dog!
This is Rebecca again. That was the last thing written in Greg’s journal. I will finish recounting what happened from my own perspective from here on out.
On the night of April 13th 2024, I returned to Greg’s home, worried since I hadn’t heard from him in days. His behavior over texts before that had seemed kind of manic, and he kept insisting that Carver was getting more violent, and increasingly scaring him.
Arriving at his home, I found the front door unlocked, and since we were close and had known each other for years, and I was worried for his well-being, I let myself inside.
Once inside, I immediately noticed trails of blood across the hardwood, and I pulled out my phone to call the police, worried that Carver had attacked Greg due to his recent violent behavior.
“Greg!” I called out as I unlocked my phone, but instead I was answered by a dog’s muffled barking.
I turned, and Carver was jumping up on the sliding glass door from outside, not a drop of blood on him.
This stunned me, so before dialing 911, I continued into the house.
“Greg!”
I passed by the hall bathroom, noticing how scratched up and chipped away at the slightly cracked open door was, and I slowly pushed it open.
“Greg?”
I froze in horror as the door swung open. The entire bathroom was drenched in blood, swathes of it covering the mirror, filling the sink, the bath tub, the toilet, covering the white tile floors, and splattered across the walls.
Several teeth and toe eyeballs rested in the pool of blood gathered in the sink that was now clogged with gore, and I couldn’t help but notice the eye color, although beginning to fade, was the same as Greg’s.
Big patches of what looked to be human skin littered the room as well, hanging off the sink and the toilet, resting in the bath, or just dropped in heaps and piles on the floor.
“Oh my god!” I screamed, stepping back and raising my phone to dial 911.
I heard noise coming from the direction of Greg’s bedroom, and I turned to face it.
Two dead bodies lay on the blood-stained, carpeted floor of his room. One appeared to be a woman, with long brown hair, though she was facing away from me. The other was a dark-skinned male in his forties, wearing the security uniform of one of the officers that patrolled Greg’s suburbs, his face locked in a perpetual scream of terror. Both of them were bloody and badly torn apart, the security officer having even been eviscerated.
I started backing away, entering 911 into my phone, but just before I pressed call, a stream of blood splattered down onto my face and phone screen from above.
I looked up, and the eyeless and skinless face of a humanoid monster stared back at me. The boned claws of its fingers and toes were dug into the ceiling, holding it aloft above me, its limbs broken and bent at inhuman angles. It screeched an echoing roar that nearly blew out my eardrums, and resounded throughout the house, revealing its rows of sharp predator fangs interspaced with the occasional more human block tooth. A long, forked tongue snaked out of its mouth, coated in blood and slime, slithering about in the space between us.
I screamed back, though mine was one of utter shock and terror, while this creature’s was a ferocious roar.
It unlatched one hand from the ceiling and swiped down, cutting open my right wrist and hand, cracking my phone, and flinging it out of my hand to smack against the wall, and then fall to the floor.
I cried out as my flesh was cut, and then furiously backed away, slipping on the trails of blood on the ground, and slamming back hard onto my rear.
Sharp pain shot through my tail bone, and my head smacked back into the side table beside Greg’s living room couch.
The creature screeched at me again, quieter this time, and crawled across the ceiling in my direction, sporadic patches of loose flesh hanging from its stalking form, one piece even hanging from its exposed scalp, dark hair coating part of it.
Carver barked furiously from outside, and I turned to face him in my shock, knowing that I was dead, but hoping that maybe he would get away. That’s when I noticed something odd about him, at first causing me to wonder if I was hallucinating.
Carver’s paws appeared at least three times larger than normal, his regular claws sharp and shaped in a more predatory way than they had been before, and both appeared to be growing more each second.
The creature screamed from above me, and I knew it was over, when suddenly, Carver slashed at the sliding glass door with one of his paws, shattering it, and then he rushed inside, his jaws expanding and audibly breaking right in front of me.
He leapt through the air just as the creature above me dropped from the ceiling, slamming into it midair, sinking his claws and his jaws into the monstrous thing, shoving it away from me and taking it to the floor several feet away.
The creature screeched in pain as Carver tore into it, and Carver growled in anger as the creature returned the favor, the two of them viciously slashing and biting one another as they rolled around the living room, breaking furniture and walls as their fight progressed.
My jaw hung open in shock as I backed away from them, not daring to make a run for it, and risk drawing the creature’s attention.
Carver seemed the dominant force in the fight at first, but soon, the creature overpowered him, flipping him over and mounting him, sinking its claws into his belly and its teeth into the side of his neck.
Carver turned and looked at me with sad and watering eyes.
“Carver! Get him!” I called out with reassurance, grabbing a lamp and throwing it at the creature, its porcelain base shattering over the monster’s head.
The creature on top of Carver froze then, turning its eyeless stare towards me.
“What’s… wrong… Rebec-ca?” The creature croaked out in a quiet screech. “You… don’t… li-ke… my… new… form?”
Tears filled my eyes. “Greg?” I asked.
Then, another deep voice that sounded in a constant roar spoke. “Not Greg,” Carver roared out. “Ah!” He screamed with renewed strength and rage, using his somewhat more humanoid front legs now to pierce his claws through the chest of the creature on top of him, and then with his unnaturally large jaws, bit deep into the creature’s throat and collarbone.
Carver then flipped the screeching creature around and pinned it underneath him, growling viciously into its fleshless face.
“Carver?” The creature asked from underneath him.
Carver cocked his head to the side.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” It croaked out. “But maybe, it wasn’t you that had something wrong with him, after all. Maybe it was me. Look at you now, so perfect, just like I was trying to become.”
“Greg?” I asked as the tears streamed down my face.
The creature found some level of resolve. “Not anymore…”
Carver whined from his position a top him.
“I love you, Carver,” Greg said. “You’re my best friend. I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you these past weeks.”
Carver pulled his head back.
“Do it,” Greg said, seeming to find some semblance of sanity in the moment. “Do it, now.” He faced away from both of us, exposing his neck to Carver. “Please.”
Carver shook his head, letting out a huff.
“You have to do it, now,” Greg said. “Do it now or I’ll kill you both! Ah!” His screamed words began turning into screeches as he lost control again.
Carver hesitated for a few seconds, and then with one quick snap of his jaws, bit through Greg’s neck and severed his head from his body, ending his screeching forever.
I gasped in utter shock and terror, tears continuously rolling down my cheeks.
Carver stepped back from his owner, his paws and jaws reconstructing back down to his regular size and shape. He whined, stepping over and licking and pawing at Greg’s severed head as he cried.
“Carver?” I asked after giving him some time to mourn his loss. “Is that still you?
Carver turned to me, whined, barked once (which caused me to jump), and then gently padded over, shoving his head into my chest as he cried.
“It is you, isn’t it?” I asked, beginning to run my fingers through his fur.
He continued to cry, rubbing his head into me for some time until I snapped back into the moment.
“We need to get out of here, buddy,” I said, getting to my feet.
Carver barked once in agreement, and then ran into Greg’s bedroom. He came back seconds later, holding a blood-stained journal in his mouth, small bits of flesh stuck in-between its pages.
“What is this?” I asked, flipping through it just enough to see that it detailed what was happening to Greg before getting the fuck out of there with Carver in tow.
I’ve been hiding out these past two days, reading through Greg’s journal, and figuring out what to do after thoroughly cleaning myself and Carver of all the blood and gore we had acquired on the night of the 13th.
One thing I noticed almost immediately, is that Carver’s wounds from the fight began healing right away, and were fully healed within hours.
I don’t know what happened to them out there, if they contracted some sort of alien virus, or if they were being used by the military as some sort of experiment. I don’t know why Carver has seemed to bond perfectly with what happened to them, and why Greg was torn apart and driven mad by it. I don’t know if it combines well with dogs and can’t bond with humans, or what.
But what I do know, is that the knowledge I have is dangerous, and that I need to be careful.
Whether the military or government had any involvement in this or not, I’m sure they would want it covered up.
I decided that spreading this information online could possibly help others, and cast a wider net to keep me safe, and although I’ve seen just how capable Carver is of protecting me, I imagine it may only be a matter of time before we have to go on the run.
To anyone that read this, just know that Greg was a good man, that what happened to him wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t him that killed those people, and he didn’t deserve this. I only hope his story can possibly help others in the future.
Thank you for reading. Goodbye.