If anyone has had a similar experience to me, please respond in the comments and let me know I’m not completely crazy.
Two nights ago, something happened that I still can’t quite explain - not to my parents or even my brother. I suppose I should start talking about what happened instead of rambling about bullshit.
As most of you know, when you own a pet such as a dog, you are blessed with the burden of responsibility (feeding, watering, the occasional cuddle), but most of all, those little babies need to piss and shit. My Holly, an adorable dachshund with clinical seperation anxiety, is one pup who needs the works. We adopted her two years ago from the Lone Star state, so you can imagine her adorable reaction to witnessing snow for the first time in her young life.
This dog treats gravity like a mere suggestion; she can jump clear over coaches and hop with ease into a standing person’s arms. Along with her extraordinary jumping abilities, she can run. Holy mother that dog can run. So much so that she has made a point to set new records everytime she goes outside to do her business. We’ve had to buy a glowing dog collar just so we can see her in the dark.
My family lives in a rural area, our house resides on approx. five acres of tall grass and trees. A drying pond sits behind our property, and similar to my fidgety dog, I enjoy watching the geese and swans swim inside lazily in looping patterns. Unfortunately, the winter months deter even the toughest of birds. To be honest, I have a pretty good reason to not look outside anymore.
This past weekend, a record-breaking snow storm swept through our tiny town, leaving cars and trees buried under icy dunes. After this torrent passed, most people were able to escape their homes after a couple days. We managed to shovel a nice, thin patch of grass for Holly, I just hope we made her minute of potty time more comfortable. Now that our frozen hell has softened slightly, Holly has more freedom to jump around the snow like a jack rabbit and explore at her leisure. That’s where I guess this all really began.
A couple of nights ago, I saw something. . . not right. I let Holly out like usual to do her nightly ritual of pissing and sprinting. She behaved like normal, I attempted to keep track of her glowing green collar, but as always, she is so easy to lose. Slipping my lined Crocs into sports mode, I began to make the treck.
It’s rather simple to follow her path - the fresh tracks are visable beneath the light snowfall. Of course, she decided to race the entire path around the length of the house and through the barren garden. That night was truly special, because that little boob thought it would be the perfect time to visit her horse friends. Great, just perfect.
Some backstory, we live near the end of a cul-de-sac and most of our neighbors own horses. The house at the end of our street is no different, they tend to keep their animals out at various times during the day, so a spontaneous visit at night was different.
Crisp snow found its way into my Crocs as I moved towards the stable. At once, my footing gave way and my body lurched forward into a hidden ditch. A cold pang shot through my knee as it made contact with the ground. I gritted my teeth to hold back a slew of curses, willing my dog to know just how much of a pain in the butt she’s being.
After I got my footing, my eyes did a once-over across the pen, searching for the slightest hint of green. The only sign of life was a Thoroughbred and its companion pony. A patterned blanket laid across the horses back, and I remember wondering why the pony didn’t have a similar blanket to cover up with. I called out to Holly, noting how my voice echoed towards the trees and beyond. A shiver ran up my spine in response to an icy gust of wind. I told myself to wait five more seconds before I move my search elsewhere. One. . . two. . . three. . . fou-
Movement.
My eyes darted towards the horses. The Thoroughbred meandered towards the far fence, while the mini stayed put. In fact, it stayed ram-rod still. My brow furrowed at the unusual sight, I instantly got worried something might be wrong with it. I debated walking over to the neighbors house to ask about Holly and the horses when, it happened.
The pony fucking stood up. No, not rearing, that fucker pushed off the ground and stood up bone straight.
Even worse, its eyes were staring right at me. Jesus, I get the shakes so bad just thinking about it.
All I could do in that moment was stare back, hoping beyond hope that if my eyes locked onto it, it wouldn’t move. It seemed to work, the thing didn’t budge. The quiet was deafening.
My breath violently hitched as a flash of green whizzed past my leg. My dog came from the woods.
I was following the wrong tracks.
In my crippling state of fear, I managed to run as fast as my legs could carry me. Through my labored breathing, I heard the most horrifying sound come from it, like an object savagely rattling inside a bass drum. Holly kept up with my pace, her glowing collar a beacon in this terrible nightmare. As I approached my house, the earth itself shook and that thing was causing it.
I made it into the garage after Holly, and the turn of the lock was music to my frozen ears. I kicked a heavy bin in front of the door; although, I’m not positive how much it would have stopped that thing from getting in if it was determined enough. Holly whined gently, as if she was afraid of making too much noise. I picked her up and pet her fur softly to calm her down, to be honest it may have been more for me.
We waited like that for about an hour until the shaking stopped and all that was left was the snowy quiet. My tears turned to ice, and Holly made quick work of licking them away. As much as I was angry she put me in that situation, I thanked God for her impeccable timing and guiding light.
Last night, my brother did something absolutely unthinkable. Being the lazy POS he is, he clipped the lit collar around Holly’s neck and sent her out the sliding door. Up in my room, I heard the tell-tale phrump of the door closing. By then I knew, it was too late. I could not get down the stairs fast enough. Rushing past my brother caused him to cry out concerns, but I had no time.
I needed to find my dog.
I called Holly’s name frantically, feeling that familiar pit of despair grow in my stomach. I made a beeline straight to the horse stable and crossed the ditch before I realized, I forgot to put on any shoes. My brain catched up to my actions, and I wondered how stupid I could possibly be. I had no weapon to defend myself, hell, I can’t even defend my feet from frostbite. My calls for Holly quiet when I heard an abrupt sound. I glanced over to the pen, no animals in sight. I turned my attention to the treeline, and for a split seacond I saw it.
Her collar.
My heart jumped at the beautiful green glow, and I moved towards my dog with renewed vigor. That is, until I saw the collar move. Not to me, no, it moved up vertically. My jaw went slack as the collar rose ever higher past tree branches, scraping past needles and pinecones. The ascent ended instantly at the top of a tree. Hovering, it just stayed there, stagnant. Those seconds felt like years, I felt naucous staring dumbly up at it.
Then, with a righteous yank, the glowing collar shot deep into the forest. No sound, no warning. A horrified gasp escaped my body, knowing for certain that whatever stalked us last night had finally gotten what it wanted.
I can no longer leave my house, not after what I heard, what I saw. My parents believe my story, how Holly ran away while chasing a deer. They don’t blame my brother or I for what happened to her, but I do. That thing is smart, it knows.
How do I know this? This morning it left me a present, or maybe a reminder. On my second-story windowsill, this gift burned a neon-green glow and alerted me of its presence. Rusted blood dots the inside of the collar, a sight which I want stripped from my memory.
That monster wants me, it knows how to get me. All it has to do is wait.