Aria
hovered in a low squat with her face nearly pressed against
the window, her fingers hooked on the wood of the sill, trembling as she held
herself steady. She released a slow breath, dewing the glass, “What’s it like
to play god?”
Emma sputtered, her laugh
forced, “What are you getting at?” Aria was suspicious of everything, and it
had driven Emma crazy since they’d been children. Every friend, boyfriend,
hobby, every piece of clothing she’d ever bought at the mall, Aria had always
scrutinized.
Her sister’s eyes
slid to look up at her as she scoffed, “I know your neighbour’s dog didn’t just
decide to walk up to your front door and whoo your little discovery into
motherhood.” She stood, eyes fixed on the other side of the glass.
Emma stepped up
beside her to peer into the sunroom at the wiggling lumps of fur that huddled
against the exposed belly of their mother, suckling as the sun shone in on
them. In the light, the blackness of their fur burned a deep reddish brown,
while their mother’s coat appeared to swallow all light completely, the
blackest black Emma had ever seen, beautiful and thick. Through the fur that
shrouded the dog’s face, the mother dog’s eyes stung like frostbite, cool and
unflinching as she stared back at her.
Emma crossed her arms
and drew them close as a chill snaked over her shoulders, and she drew her gaze
away. “Alright, so maybe I paid the guy a couple hundred bucks…” she murmured.
Aria slapped her arm
hard enough to make it ache. “You’re not a fucking dog breeder, Em!” She
studied the animals again, eyes narrowed, “I mean, are you even sure she’s a
dog?”
“Don’t be paranoid.”
The anatomy was the
same, even if it was a bit odd, misshapen even. The dog was incredibly large, her limbs long and paws massive. Her maw was longer and wider than those of
most dogs, and her back arched high over her shoulders, almost like a
hunchback. Emma hadn’t been able to get close enough to her to find out if her
bones made it that shape, or if it was the fur.
During the six months
the animal had been living in her house, Emma had never been able to touch her
because the dog never allowed her to get close enough. She probably hadn’t been
around too many humans before being taken in, so that wasn’t totally
unexpected. There could’ve been some intermingling with wolves in her lineage
at some point, especially this far into the mountains. It wasn’t unheard of.
With a shrug, Aria
went quiet and goosebumps raised on her arms. “Dogs don’t… look at people like that, Em.”
“It’s only because
you’re a face she doesn’t recognize,” Emma replied.
“But she’s not
looking at me,” Aria retorted.
She wasn’t. The dog
hadn’t moved the entire time they’d been standing at the window. The intensity
of her white irises and pinpointed pupils bore into Emma until her body began
to squirm, and she made herself step out of the animal’s line of sight.
“She’s a new mother,”
Emma said, “she’s allowed to be protective.”
Aria rolled her eyes.
“What did the vet say about her?”
“Nothing really.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He’d also never seen an animal like her. Not one so
big, and muscled, and hunched. Emma swallowed, “I haven’t heard back from him
since the delivery. I left him a voicemail this morning though. She hasn’t
eaten since the puppies were born.”
“What?! But it’s been
two weeks!” Aria exclaimed, her eyes going wide. She nearly leapt back from the
window, her hands flying up in exasperation. “I can’t, Em, I-” She stepped past
her, reaching for her coat. “I know you’re excited your little breeding idea
bore fruit, but that animal isn’t some normal dog, no matter what you think.”
Emma followed Aria as she sped her way through the house to the front door.
“Until the vet gets back to you, don’t go into that sunroom,” she said as she
tugged on her boots, “I know you don’t care if you get mauled, but I do.”
Emma sighed, “If she
wanted to maul me, she would have d-”
“You know what this
feels like?” Aria interrupted, her grip so tight on the door knob that her
knuckles were white. “It feels like the start of one of those insane situations
where someone realizes they shouldn’t have wild animals running free in their
house… like before they’re eaten by the cougar they kept in their basement-”
“Aria-”
“Or before they lose
an arm to the tigers they had locked in the backyard.” Her brows shot up, and
she tugged the door open. “Do not go into that room. Please, don’t.”
The muscles in Emma's
jaw ached. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Good,” Aria said,
“Because it takes me over an hour to drive up here, and I don’t want to get a
wake-up call that you’re dead before either of us reach eighty, okay?”
“Alright!” Emma
asserted, and she kissed her sister’s cheek. “I’ll be careful. I’ll call you
when I hear back from the vet.”
Aria sighed and gave
her a quick hug, her voice a growl in her ear, “You’d better.”
“Bye,” Emma said when
they separated, and Aria shut the door with a heavy clack.
***
Emma stood at the
sunroom door, fighting the tremor in her hands as she gripped a metal bowl
packed to the brim with slices of raw chicken and veal liver.
It’s just a dog. It’s
always been just a dog.
She drew in a sharp
breath and reached for the door knob.
Just a dog. A dog
with new babies, who needs to eat.
Carefully she pushed
the door open, the warmth of the sunroom almost overbearing even with the
windows open to the autumn air blowing in off the lake.
The mother dog was
watching Emma before she cleared the doorway, her pupils narrowing further with
every tentative step taken toward her. Emma did her best not to get too close
and settled herself into a crouch. slowly extending the bowl forward and
placing it on the floor just in front of the dog’s nose.
“You need to eat
something, momma,” Emma crooned. “You can’t care for your babies if you don’t
eat.”
The mother dog only
studied her, not so much as glancing at the bowl of meat as the hair along her
back slowly raised, and the muscles on her haunches rippled.
Emma lowered her
voice, trying to remain as still as possible. “Just a mouthful?”
The puppies' noses
began to twitch. One by one, the four of them pulled away from their mother’s
teats to sniff at the air and started to squeal. The sound made Emma recoil,
the pitch rattling her ear drums as they cried louder and louder, their bodies
violently shaking as they dragged themselves over one another to reach the
meat. They pounced, jaws smacking as they ripped chunks of chicken apart, bits
of liver spraying across the floor.
Emma scrambled to
snatch the bowl back with both hands. Pain burst along her fingers and she
almost screamed as she pulled away, blood running down her wrist from the bite
that had torn through her thumb.
Puppies this young
shouldn’t have teeth. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she knew it was
true.
Their alarming squeals
were undiminished as they gnawed and tore, flashes of pointed teeth visible
with each gulp.
The mother dog was
unmoving, fur raised, and her eyes so white that there was no pupil at all.
Emma pressed her
hands to the floor and pushed herself to her feet, nearly falling as she fled
back to the door. The puppies baying was growing unbearable as the meat ran
out, and they scuttled forward to lap up the bloody handprint Emma had left
behind.
The glass rattled as
Emma slammed the door shut and snapped the deadbolt closed.
***
The shrill twitter of
her cell’s ringtone startled Emma awake, her neck twinging as she jolted
upright on the couch. She didn’t remember having fallen asleep, but the room
around her was dark, the tv flickering. Her phone blinked up at her from where
it had fallen on the floor, the vet’s number flashing across the caller ID.
“Hello,” Emma yawned
as she pressed the phone to her ear, her voice warbled.
“Hi, Emma?”
She cleared her
throat, “Yes, sorry, I was- I’m just up from a nap, sorry”
The vet laughed
gently, his voice deep and pleasant, “I’m so sorry to have woken you, but I
wanted to let you know I got your message from this morning.”
This morning… she
barely remembered having called him. “Right, yes, thank you.”
“So our new momma
hasn’t been eating?”
“Yeah, not a thing.”
She glanced over toward the sunroom, only to do a double take when she saw the
door to the room ajar, the cool blue of the moonlight stretching across the
floor.
She had locked that
door. The key was still in the deadbolt, but turned, unlocked. Silence emanated
from the sunroom, permeated the whole house until her ears began to ring and
her skin went cold.
She didn’t wait for
the vet to finish talking, “I’m going to have to call you back.”
Call ended. She
stood, the phone falling away from her face to bounce onto the couch.
She had definitely
locked that door.
Her bare feet made
little noise as she stepped across the floor, a trickle of cool air ghosting
from the sunroom to chill her toes as she reached the open door. She leaned
forward to peer inside, the floor groaning loudly under her weight, making her
jump. Inside, the puppies were huddled sleeping on the floor, their mother
nowhere to be seen.
“Shit!” Emma stopped
herself from snapping the door shut. If the dog was in the main part of the
house, there was no way she’d be able to wrangle an animal that size through a
shut door. And making a barrier between a mom and her young probably would only
make things worse.
She pushed the door
open completely, flooding the living room behind her with moonlight and night
air.
“Momma?” she
whispered into the dim, only to have nothing but silence respond.
The house was just a
single level, so there were very few places the dog could have wandered off.
Even if she’d misremembered locking the sunroom door, Emma never left the front
door unlocked, despite the house being so far back from the main road.
The living room lamps
hummed to life as she flicked a light switch, illuminating the room in a sepia
hue that never quite reached the darkest bits of the corners.
Empty.
She took a quick peek
behind the couch before stepping into the kitchen.
Nails clicked across
the floor somewhere on the far side of the room, and Emma spun, unable to see
any movement in the dark. Of course the dog had come to the kitchen,
considering this was the only place Emma ever kept food. The last thing she
wanted was mice in her bed.
She hadn’t reached
the light switch before the sheen of two eyes snapped to fix on her from the
dark.
Emma jumped, her
heart bursting through her chest. She didn’t look away, her arm patting along
the wall, failing to find the light switch. She cleared her throat and released
a nervous laugh, “You scared me, momma.” Her laugh was shrill, her ears stuffy.
The eyes didn’t move,
didn’t falter.
“Are you hungry?”
Emma asked, inching her way toward the fridge. She couldn’t look away, didn’t
dare to. “I’ve got lots of food I can give you.”
When Emma popped the
fridge open, the eyes moved, and the dark mass in the room shifted along with
them and began to expand. The eyes drew closer as the dark intensified, nails
dragging across the laminate, the sound making Emma weak at the knees. Closer
and closer, until the pressure in the room bore down on her, and the shadows
swarmed in making it hard to breathe. In the flickering light of the
refrigerator, the creature that approached her grew, its muscles twitching and
expanding until it rose up on bulging hind legs in front of her.
It was nearly on top
of her. Emma could barely catch her breath as the darkness swirled and stung
against her skin. Its eyes had her, glowing a hot white, as its long jaw,
brimmed with fanged teeth, inched closer to her face. More and more teeth were
revealed as the animal's lips pulled back into an unsettling grin. A gasping
breath hissed out of its jaws, and it went still, its grotesque form hovered
over her, trembling.
“Just a mouthful?” it
said. “Just a mouthful?”
***
Justine
Howard is
a 2D VFX artist, a writer and book lover, a runner, a Newfoundlander, momma of a Sphynx,and a plant-based
embracer of life and sunshine.
"Warg" was previously published on CommuterLit. For information about submitting to CommuterLit, see here.
See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing
classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.
