An Unusual Recount of Peculiar Events......... Finalist

An Unusual Recount of Peculiar Events

Selena Walker

With a hollow, damaged look in his eyes he began his story.

“I remember the first day the girl came. A child of about 10, dressed in vintage attire. My husband thought it was unusual how she was dressed like she’d just stepped out of Hairspray. I thought it was cute. She had a saccharine disposition, though it was odd how she carried a shovel. It was a dirty, rusted thing but I thought nothing of it.

            ‘Hi, I’m Vicky!’ She had an amiable tone to her voice, and looked up at us with eyes pristine as glaciers. ‘Can I please have my dog back?’ Bemused, we told her that we didn’t have her dog, but would keep an eye out for it. She said nothing, just smiled and strolled away.

            This occurred daily for a week. Each time we became more confused. ‘Why does she think we have her dog?’ We wondered. We checked with the neighbors. None of them had seen a loose dog. Or the girl.

Day eight was different. Her expression became dark, her voice malicious. Black mist and tendrils crept at the edge of my vision.

            ‘Give. Me. Back. My. DOG!’ The front door and windows shook as she yelled. The rattling frightened our cat, and it ran out the door towards her.

            I still recall the noise. The sickening crunch. The strangled animalistic cry made as the shovel came down through his neck. The stunned silence afterwards.

I still recall the sight. A fountain of blood over the porch. The twitch of paws and kick of legs as transmissions from brain to limbs ceased. When we looked up, the girl had vanished.

We executed a short funeral the next day. As we dug the hole we found something peculiar. A skeleton, canine in structure. Remnants of its organs still clung to the bones.

‘I just wanted my dog back,’ we heard a quiet voice astern. We turned and saw Vicky. Something about her seemed unusual. ‘How dare you come here again,’ my husband began as he stalked to her. ‘Why, I ought to-’ He cut his sentence short as he saw her glide over to the dog skeleton.”

The man paused and took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing to tell me his story.

“Then Vicky… She hugged the dog and that’s when it started. Her face shriveled and sagged. She aged by decades before our eyes. Her skin started to slip off in torn visceral chunks, exposing the sludgy brown muscle beneath. Snow white hair fell like autumn leaves. Her eyes fell from her sockets, barely clinging by rectus muscles. They quickly blackened and continued their descent. By now her teeth were exposed, yellowed and blackened as well. They fell one by one against the dog’s skeleton, clinking like fine china. Soon she was nothing but quiescent viscera, and shortly afterwards nothing but the sheen of bodily fluids a dog skeleton.

Our dreams were haunted for weeks. My husband killed himself a month later.”

The man had finally finished his recount of the events. I briefly checked with my partner to see if she had everything down.

“Thank you for your time, Sir.” I shook his hand and I believe I may have a heard a faint ‘you’re welcome, officer.’ As I departed the asylum I saw a dog and shuddered.