It was a chilly evening a few weeks ago when my friend Jason and I found ourselves indulging in the dark corners of the internet for our particular amusement. We would quite often peruse the dark web, trying to find the strangest things we could in that lawless place.
We’d been doing it for years, since we first got access to the dark web back in high school when Jason found out about the tor. We’d seen everything, from drug sites to snuff sites, but on this particular evening, a peculiar link caught our attention. It was titled “Dolittle’s Bazaar”. Intrigued, we clicked the link.
A digital menagerie showcasing exotic animals of all kinds opened up in front of us. It was obviously run by poachers and boasted a large amount of endangered and rare species. Mesmerised by the bizarre collection, we scrolled through the listings, intrigued by the curiosities on display. It had everything, from mundane tropical fish to incredibly rare big cats. We were amazed.
Amidst the virtual oddities, a seemingly innocuous pop-up materialised, advertising a dog, claiming that it was unlike any other. “This dog is made just for you, it’s astonishingly intelligent, capable of comprehending and executing any command, the perfect companion” it read. Its price tag was unusually low for what was being offered, almost too good to be true.
Being the animal lover out of the two of us, Jason decided to take the plunge, succumbing to the allure of owning a unique and brilliant canine companion, as well as the possibility of rescuing the creature from the hands of the poachers.
“They’re probably mistreating the poor thing anyway, you know what poachers can be like, I’ve seen videos online. Besides, no one else in the world will have one like it,” he said, as though trying to justify his purchase. I warned him that it was probably a scam but he was determined, as though he’d already made up his mind but was now coming up with the justification. He always got like this whenever it came to animals, always leading with his heart. “I know it’s risky, I’m not stupid. But what if it’s legitimate? What if that poor creature is suffering and I can do something about it now?” He said.
With the nonchalant click of a button, he entered his payment details and placed the order. A sense of apprehension filled me as he clicked the button and the screen flashed “Payment processed”. I wasn’t sure why at the time, I think it was just a general distrust of the dark web, after all, we’d seen a lot of things on there before.
“Well,” said Jason, “Let’s see what happens’. Worst case I’ve just lost some money, best case I’ve rescued an animal.” We carried on searching through random links in the dark web, but at the back of our minds was the excitement to see Jason’s new dog, as well as the anxiety as to whether it was even real at all. You could never be too careful on the dark web.
Jason went home later that night and the events of the evening gradually faded from our minds. Several weeks passed by with no sign of the dog. There was nothing from the company on the deep web either. We both assumed that it had been a scam and that Jason had just lost his money. “I told you so” I goaded, each time I saw him.
A few days after that, an obscure package arrived at my friend’s doorstep. It was a huge box, larger than anything he’d ever ordered before. You could easily fit a full-length sofa inside and still have room to spare.
Strapped to the top was a note. Printed on plain paper with no discerning marks it read “Your very own unique companion is here. We hope you enjoy it”. Below, in the red text were the words “No Refunds, No Returns”
Wasting no time, Jason called me. “It’s here, the dog from the deep web, it’s arrived. The box is massive but I can hear it moving around inside” he practically shouted down the phone in excitement. “Point 1 to Jason for always being right”
“What, really? Haha, ok ok, you win this one Mr. Awesome”, I responded, amazed that something actually had turned up. “I’ll swing by after work and meet the new furball”
“Sweet, see you then,” he said in that same excited tone. Then he hung up. I couldn’t help a feeling of excitement welling up in my stomach. I wasn’t exactly an animal lover myself, I could take or leave them, but I was still excited to see this new dog.
As soon as I finished work I made my way over to his house as quickly as I could, interested to see what made the dog so unique. Knocking on the door, Jason slowly opened it, his head poking out gingerly from behind it. “So where is it?” I asked, trying to glance over his shoulder, “Come on, I want to see it”.
Yeah…..ok…..come in,” Jason said, his voice quivering slightly—a stark contrast to his confident tone over the phone mere hours ago. I made my way into the house, but there was no sign of the creature that had been delivered. “It’s…..it’s in the basement,” Jason said, again in that shaking voice.
Now very confused by what was going on, I followed as he led me to the basement. As soon as he opened the door I was met with an odd stench, not something I’d ever smelt before. It was a sickly sweet smell with a hint of iron. I couldn’t help a feeling of apprehension in my gut as I stared down the staircase into the black abyss.
Inside the basement, it was dark. There was a small, old light in the middle of the basement illuminating a small area and casting long shadows across the floor. As I made my way down the smell was much stronger, nearly suffocating me, I could make out sounds too. There’s no way I could describe those sounds, they seemed like a low grunting noise but there was a high-pitched, pained quality to it. There’s no way that sound was made by a dog.
As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I could see a large metal cage in the far corner of the basement. It had thick iron bars and a heavy-looking padlock on the gate, the floor was covered in sawdust. The sounds seemed to be emanating from further within.
“Come here girl” Jason beckoned, again a quiver in his voice. My eyes remained fixed on the cage, awaiting the reveal of his peculiar new companion. The creature inside it obeyed his command, moving into the dim light.
I had to stifle a scream. There’s no way that thing could be a dog. It was hairless, with large, red-looking welts all over its body that were held together with stitches. If I had to describe it, I would say that it appeared as if someone had crudely amalgamated human components to create a macabre imitation of a canine form.
It was breathing that same, low grunt with a high-pitched whine, as though its every breath was pained. Its face looked stretched, like the skin was pulled back, almost into a grimace of constant agony. I almost feel sorry for the wretched thing if it wasn’t so repulsive…
“Oh….god…..” I said, not sure of what else to say. All words left me.
“I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? I didn’t think this is what they’d send, I was expecting something like a really obedient Doberman or something, but not this thing?” Jason said. I could hear the sadness and disappointment in his voice. He almost couldn’t bear to look at it either. “It looks like it’s been so badly mistreated. The poor thing.”
“Can you return it?” I asked, still looking at the thing in the cage, that same sense of revulsion filling me.
“No, there are no returns. I’m stuck with her’’ Jason said in a frustrated tone.
“Why don’t you just give her to a rescue centre or release her into the wild or something then?” I asked.
“I can’t do that” Jason snapped, almost offended. “Look at her. Nobody’d take her for one, and she doesn’t look like she’d survive in the wild on her own. She needs help”
I felt so sorry for Jason, he seemed genuinely upset by the creature in the cage that he was now stuck with. He was a compassionate person and I could see that this dilemma about what to do and the need to help was eating away at him inside.
“Alright,” I said, “If you’re going to keep this thing, we can’t just call it “that horrible thing”. What are you going to call it, got any ideas? Demon Doggo? Scooby Don’t?”
He thought for a second before saying “Lucy”. Lucy had been his grandmother’s name, she’d passed away when he was really young. “Yeah, I think I want to call her Lucy”
In the days following Lucy’s arrival, Jason retreated further into his house, isolating himself from friends and social interactions. Whenever we managed to catch a glimpse of him, an uncharacteristic skittishness or edge hung about him, a stark contrast to his usual demeanour.
He’d still speak and behave like the Jason we all knew, but he seemed distracted, as though he was constantly preoccupied with something. He also started dressing differently, wearing long clothing that covered most of his body regardless of the outside temperature, whereas before he was a shorts and t-shirt kinda guy.
Every time I would ask him about Lucy he would respond with something like “She’s good, yeah” or “She’s getting there”, but he wouldn’t go into much detail. You could see it on his face, a look of conflict, as though he wanted to confide something in us but he couldn’t bring himself to.
In the weeks that followed, Jason had gotten worse. It was rare that anyone could get in contact with him at all. When we did see him he was now a skinny, gaunt imitation of the healthy, happy Jason we knew before. He looked incredibly pale and sickly, he’d also developed an odd limp in his right leg.
When we asked him about what was happening to him he would laugh it off, saying that the doctors were investigating. But his expression didn’t seem to portray the same feeling, he looked worried, almost scared. On the very rare occasions that he did come out with us, he’d normally only stay for a couple of hours before making some excuse to go back home.
We were all worried about him. Unable to ignore the signs of his deteriorating condition, I mustered the courage to check on him.
When I arrived at his house I pressed the doorbell, waiting a while for an answer. When none came I knocked on the door, assuming that the bell may not be plugged. As I knocked, the door opened slowly. It was unlocked.
This was strange, Jason didn’t normally leave his door unlocked. With a sense of unease now stirring in my stomach I made my way into the house, shouting Jason’s name in the hopes that he would hear me. His house exuded an eerie silence, and a deeper sense of foreboding enveloped me as I made my way further into the house.
It was empty, there was no sign of anyone there at all. It hadn’t been cleaned in what looked like ages either, the sink was overflowing with washing up and the bins were at the point of spilling over.
I shouted for Jason again. Still no answer. I was beginning to get really worried about him now.
Growing increasingly concerned, I combed through the house, my anxiety escalating. Amidst my search, a thick booklet perched atop a cabinet caught my eye. Its appearance suggested recent handling, urging me to inspect it
Picking it up, I turned it over and read the cover. It looked like a manual with a picture of a creature that looked like Lucy on the front. “So you own a Sanguisuga Canis” was sprawled in a large font at the top.
Perplexed, I flicked through its pages. Sanguisuga Canis was the Latin for Bloodhound. The creature my friend had purchased on the dark web was a very rare and old subspecies of canine that subsisted entirely on blood. They were so exceedingly rare because of their metabolism, they could only go 6 - 8 hours between feeds until their bodies began to digest themselves and they starved to death. Horror and dread washed over me as I realised the extent of my friend’s situation.
I continued searching the house with a more frantic urgency, shouting for Jason but still receiving no answer. Then from the corner of my eye, I noticed that the basement door was wide open. I could smell that same sickly smell of decay wafting up. It was stronger now, and even more nauseating now that I knew it was due to decaying blood. I could also hear sounds from down there, the same low growl and whine as before, but there was another sound mixed in that I couldn’t put my finger on.
Tentatively, I ventured into the depths of his basement, terrified as to what I would find there. I couldn’t bring myself to shout for Jason, it sounds silly but the sounds in the basement sent shivers through me, so much so that I was too afraid to utter a sound. As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I poked my head around the corner into the dim gloom.
I discovered Jason lying unconscious, in the middle of the basement under that light. He was pale. Deathly pale. I ran over to him, my fears being pushed to the back of my mind, overpowered by a deep concern for my friend. I rolled him over and tried to wake him but he was completely unresponsive. I checked for a pulse, any sign of breathing or anything else that would show me that my friend was alive. ………….There was nothing.
I shook him again, begging him to wake up. The feeling of devastation was crushing, I was doing my best not to break down but I could feel the hot tears welling up in my eyes. Jason, my best friend, was gone. I was so confused. What had happened? I knew that he was sick but I had no idea he was this far gone. Why hasn’t he said anything to me?
I pulled him close and hugged him, beginning to cry, as though if I hugged him hard enough it might bring him back. He was cold as ice. He was really gone. Slowly I laid his body back down gently onto the basement floor. As I lowered him, I noticed a piece of paper had dropped from his clenched fist. I turned to pick it up, and as I grabbed it my eyes perceived something that I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.
Emerging from Jason’s right leg, a grotesque and sinewy appendage, resembling a nightmarish vine, slithered into my line of sight. Its fleshy colour clashed starkly against his pallid skin, with a labyrinth of capillaries that seemed to writhe and pulse with pulsating crimson fluid. The eerie, almost dance-like undulations propelled the liquid in a disturbing rhythm, leading the eye along the horrifying path into the abyss of Lucy’s cage
As if called to action by observation, the tube disconnected from Jason’s leg with an audible pop before slowly retracting back into the cage. Then there was a low growl as Lucy made her way forward.
She was much larger than the last time I saw her, with red stains around her mouth where the tube was now receding. Her stomach was also distended and bloated, a deep red colour compared with the rest of her pale frame. She looked me in the eyes with her cold gaze and let out another, threatening growl.
I began to back away, noticing the heavy padlock of the cage door on the floor just beyond Jason. A jolt of fear shot through me. She was loose. Without a second thought, I ran. Fear clenched my heart, as I scrambled up the stairs, propelled by sheer survival instinct. Reaching the top I slammed the door shut and barricaded it with a chair. The door thudded seconds later, as though Lucy had thrown herself at it as hard as she could. The door rattled violently and the chair visibly shook, but it held.
She made an awful noise, like a roar but nothing like I’d heard before, but she couldn’t get out. Desperation clouded my mind as I grappled with the dilemma before me. I couldn’t let that abomination escape, not now that I knew what it was. But nor could I bear to confront the monstrosity that killed my best friend.
I felt an overwhelming sense of entrapment and exhaustion as if the weight of the entire ordeal was crashing down on me. With the main danger now sealed behind the door, the reality of the situation settled in, threatening to drown me in a tidal wave of emotions. The grief I’d felt in the basement when I saw Jason’s body, my fear as I realised Lucy was loose and now the dilemma of what to do with her. I made my way over to Jason’s couch, needing to sit and try to process this, trying to figure out what I needed to do next.
As I sat down I remembered the piece of paper that had fallen from Jason’s hand as I lowered him to the floor, the paper I was picking up just as I noticed that horrific proboscis. In the ensuing chaos, I’d stuffed it into my pocket, not wanting to lose the last remnant of my friend. Taking it out of my pocket I smoothed it out. It was a note, addressed to me. It would make sense he’d know that I’d be the one to come looking for him. I began to read the rest of the note.
Jason had written the note in his final moments, trying to explain why he’d been so distant and strange lately, and apologising for how he’d been acting towards me and my friends. He explained that he’d not had any other way to feed Lucy, so he had been using his own blood every 8 hours to feed the creature.
He knew it was draining him, gradually killing him, but he didn’t want her to die. She was a living thing and endangered, he’d said, she deserves to live. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. He asked me to forgive him, going on to say that he’d valued our friendship above all else. I placed the note down, tears welling up in my eyes.
I sat there for hours, finding myself grappling with the knowledge that the creature’s thirst for blood had been what had taken my best friend from me, and if I didn’t act it would soon lead to its demise. But my best friend sacrificed his life to keep that thing alive, and if I let it die then he’ll have given his life for nothing.
I’ve still not made a decision yet, but I can’t hear anything from the basement anymore. I guess there’s no harm giving her a bit of mine for the moment, just to keep her alive while I decide…….Yeah….Just this once………..