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Riddled with Holes, Episode 1
I awoke with a start, a gasp
actually escaping my lips as I shot up in bed. I had been dreaming. But, it’s
not like I knew what about. I never remember my dreams. Ever. Once I had even
tried keeping one of those dream journals—not that I told anyone, though, because
that would have given my buddies a lifetime supply of ammunition for mockery.
But it didn’t matter anyway. Keeping that journal had been pointless, because, like
I said, I never remember my dreams.
I swung my legs over the side of
the bed, and a wave of panic ran through me. Crap, I thought, my mind still fringed at the edges with sleep. Did I leave Puff outside? The floor was
cold beneath my feet. I wore nothing but my boxers to bed, year-round, simply
out of habit. It felt like an icebox in my room. I tossed on a maybe-clean pair
of sweatpants and a definitely-not-clean shirt. Then I slipped on some
sneakers, shunning the concept of socks, and headed into the hallway.
Tripping over someone’s discarded
backpack, I fell against one of my roommate’s closed doors, and of course was
profanely scolded from within. I continued to stumble down the hall until I
made it to the top of the stairs. The television was on downstairs, sending
lightning-like flashes across the dark walls. When I had reached the bottom of
the steps I could see the back of someone’s head—most assuredly Landen’s, given
the wildness of the hair—and with a glance at the television I could see that he
was well into one of his late-night videogame marathons.
I crossed through the kitchen and
fumbled my way through the dark to the backdoor. I placed my hand on the
deadbolt, but I didn’t need to unlock it, since apparently no one had bothered
to lock it in the first place. When I opened the door a cold breeze hit me,
biting at my cheeks like a thousand tiny teeth.
“Puff,” I whispered into the
night.
I received no response. Maybe he
was giving me the silent treatment. After all, I had forgotten to let him back
inside before turning in for the night.
This time I whispered louder.
“Come on, Puff. Sorry I left you out here, boy. My bad. But come in now, bud. I’m
seriously about to freeze to death.” It really was freezing. I expected it to
be chilly, or cold, but not freezing.
After all, it was barely October. My breath came out in a plume of steam, and the
arctic air threatened to freeze it into icicles before it could
dissipate.
There was a huffing, grumbling
noise off to my right. Followed by a sudden movement that I could only barely
discern in the inky blackness of the night. Then something slammed into me,
hard, knocking me into the doorframe. It was Puff. All two hundred pounds of
him. He was as black as the night, so all I could see of him was the moist
glisten of his eyes, roughly a foot in front of me. He let out a quiet woof,
and then I sensed him turning back around to face the yard.
Puff was not a barker. He was as
quiet and gentle of a giant as you could find. So when he woofed again, louder this time,
I knew something was off.
“What’s the matter, boy?”
Woof.
“What is it?”
Grrrr.
Something was definitely wrong. I
stepped out onto the patio. Puff was next to me, and I could feel him inch
closer until he was touching my side. Peering through the darkness, I could
finally tell that Puff was staring out towards the bushes against the back
fence. Turning my eyes to that portion of the yard, I tried to see what he could see. I
looked for an opossum, raccoon, even a cat. Puff didn’t usually care about those
kinds of things, had never even chased a squirrel in his life, but something
had him riled, so I had to start somewhere.
Once my eyes had fully adjusted
to the dark, I didn’t see an opossum, or a raccoon, or a cat. What I saw was a
shadowy shape suddenly dart between two of the bushes. It had been big, at
least the size of a man. And it was fast. Like greased lightning fast.
Then, from within the depths of
the bush that the...thing...had run
toward, I saw red. Two red dots. Glinting, like two little pools of blood just
floating there. They were eyes, I presumed.
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