Black Dog
Several years ago, we had our own
business, building custom made horse trailers, thing that everybody wanted and
apparently, we were pretty good at it. In January, 2006, I was late again delivering a trailer, since I had been working night and day to get the trailer
finished, so that the customer could make it to a programmed show.
After working for 30 hours straight,
it was finally finished. I hitched it up to the car, and headed off on the
eight hour drive to take it to the customer, so ten hours later, I arrived. I
was exhausted; then, the new owners offered me a bed for the night. I was fed,
showered, and then I went to sleep.
The next day, the customer wanted me
to do some additional work on the trailer. We took it into the depot where he
worked, and I completed the modifications he requested. At around six pm I was
finished, so the customer was happy, and I headed for home. Nothing moves as
fast as a vehicle that is driven home with a lighter load, through the back
roads of southern New South Wales, it seemed I flew.
Six hours, a packet of cigarettes and
many coffees and energy drinks later, I pulled over for a pit stop about 25 kilometers
from home, where there was a spooky place with no moon. Even in the warm
January night, I felt shivers and I still feel shivers now, just thinking about
it. I got back in the car and pulled back
onto the road; then, I realized that I was not alone...There was a, a, a queer presence.
I looked into the rear view mirror
but there was nothing there, so I looked to the passenger seat where a black
dog, sinister to me, appeared: Its body was half of a dog, but its black head was
of a man, just a long an angular body like a whippet’s one. Its eyes were
glowing red, like embers from the fires of hell.
I pushed the accelerator to the floor
because I had to get out of that place; however, I heard a voice…
My father’s
voice: “Slow down, mate” I slowed, dropped to the speed limit, then even lower,
but I crawled home. The presence was still there. I could feel the blackness of
its sight seeping into my skin, though I could not look over to the passenger’s
side because I could not, terrified as I was.
Finally, I made it home, got off, walked
from the car when I felt like running. It had taken me an hour, but I did not
look back; nevertheless, it was too late. I had brought with me the darkness
home and It was here to stay for a while… always on the lookout.
The
end!
By Andrés Argel, Step 9
