The Werewolf

August 20, 2010
I’m sure you don’t realize it but the trees talk, they say things. More like sharp, scratchy whispers. I jog all the time after dinner; I’m a fairly healthy woman. It seems now a days Americans take a pill for everything. There’s nothing better than a nice jog, it was on my afternoon jog that I realized the trees could talk. I usually don’t go very late in my jogs, but tonight it was getting dark. I could feel the cold in the soles of my feat and I looked at the trees. They shook softly at first, the quiet shaking turned into furious beating and for the first time I really looked at trees. Dark brown bark the particular one I was looking at was tall and seemed to be leaning towards me, it looked like a pine, but strangely enough the evergreen held no leaves. There was a large hole in the bottom. I was deeply compelled to look inside but it was an eerie feel. It was if I remember correctly ugly. Sometimes you see an ugly little dog and you think aww cute. No, this was not a nice tree. It may not have been ugly, but I make no mistake when I say this tree was evil and it was talking. I cut the trail I was jogging because the evil tree reminded me of my little four-year-old baby boy left at the house , I was strange because he was not evil and the tree, how it put images in my head I do not know. I raced and with every step my heart beat one faster. I tore out of the woods and I was in the backyard of my house. I turned right to the gate blocking my private trail. I knew whatever it was, was bad i busted in the backdoor of my home and lying in the middle of the carpet was my little boy with a black dog on all fours licking my sons face. My son shrieked, but it was a joyous one, the door behind me slung shut. The dogs face turned and I saw his bloodshot, yellow eyes glow, he picked up my son by the sleeve of his green shirt and ran up the stairs dragging my child behind him.

I pounced up the balcony and through the hallway. I heard him laugh again; my son was playing with the dog. I looked around and saw nothing at the top of the stairs, then in the corner of my eye a swift slam of the door broke me. This dog too was evil. I ran to the door and tried the knob. No, locked, how? I pounded my fists against the hard pine door. No use, I was exhausted I took a seat in the hallway across from the door. Five minutes passed and the door opened, the blood rushed into my face, I could feel it not because my face was hot but because the rest of my body was freezing. My baby was lying on the bed. I checked him everywhere, not a scratch. Feeling breath on the back of my legs I turned and the black dog stood on his four legs before me, to my left was a broom. Slowly I inched toward it. I felt my fingertips touch the broom; still my eyes did not break contact with the dog. I spun the end off the broom so only the pole was there. He tried to stare me down and I stared back, a flicker of light flew through his otherwise dark eyes. Finally I broke contact and took a jab with the sharper end of the broomstick that had metal on it. He jumped, but still I caught his foot with the short blow. He retaliated and opened his mouth and pounced at me. I swung the broom and struck his stomach while in the air; still he continued to accelerate towards me. I wasted no time and struck the dog hard n the mouth. He dropped to the ground, still, he laid there. I walked over to him; I grasped the broom with both hands now and slowly raised my arms in the air to deliver the final blow. The dog turned and clutched my ankle in his mouth and clamped tight. Blood ran down the side of my foot. I swung the broomstick hard against his back and with this last hit the dog’s skin broke and out oozed black blood. I walked over to my baby and hugged him. He smiled, movement attracted my right eye. The black dog raised up and staggered off out through the house and into the woods.





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