Lynette LeGarde
311 Creative Writing
Story 2
Dr Stobb
Whiskers
The night was clear and silent, while the radiant moon shone high above the quiet city. The stars brightened the sky, complementing the vivacious light of the moon. The only sound was of me walking briskly with my flashlight searching for my cat, Mr. Whiskers. Having put him outside to enjoy the evening air, I was now worried because that had been almost three hours ago. He hadn’t returned home yet; my fluffy leopard slippers crush the leaves beneath my feet.
“Mr. Whiskers” I call out loudly, but not loud enough to disturb the neighbors. “Mr. Whiskers!” Checking a fairly large bush close to the neighbors’ house, I found nothing; as I flash the light beam around the bush. “MR. WHISKERS!”
There is silence when I quit moving for a second to listen for any sort of movement, but there is none. I trudge along down the peaceful block further away from my tiny house. One of the streetlights ahead is burnt out; the street is almost complete darkness, except for the faint house lights of the neighborhood.
“Mr. Whiskers!”
There is still no sign of Mr. Whiskers, but then I hear something; it’s a small rustling in the distance. It sounds like a galloping; whatever it is, it is growing louder; it’s getting closer, and closer. It is so dark, and armed only with my puny maglite, I glance in the direction of the sound. Hearing the rustling I picture it being my cat, then silence.
The sound causes me to get a little nervous. Some strange dog barking at me or a dog bite is all I need while I’m trying to find my cat. Turning around I walk back to my house. Mr. Whiskers is going to have to fend for himself. When I get to my front yard I see that the crazy cat is already there. “Mr. Whiskers, where have you been? I was worried about you.” I open the front door and let His Majesty in first. As soon as he enters the palace he runs to his food dish in the kitchen, demanding to be fed that instant.
The next morning I wake up still in my pajamas; I go to the front door to get the newspaper. The delivery guy is like clockwork; he always delivers the dailies at 6:30.
Mr. Whiskers is already in the kitchen awaiting me to feed him yet again. “Kitty, you should be cooking me breakfast,” I mention as I sit at my oak dining room table; flipping the front page open, I skim the sections. On the second page there is an article about dogs missing in our area of the city. I don’t find it particularly strange as I sip coffee. I decide to get ready for the day. “Okay, Whiskers, I have to get moving.”
Tonight I leave Whiskers in and go for a leisurely walk, it is just before dusk. I set out walking toward the sunset; the wind blows lightly reflecting a cool breeze that will soon inhabit our season. I pass people walking their dogs, walking their babies, and walking in pairs throughout the neighborhood. A woman smiles at me as we pass and offers a neighborly “hello.”
On my way home, I hear something behind me; not sure of what it is, I speculate. Then silence, I can hear dogs barking faintly in the distance. They chime in at different times but they all sound like they are upset. I turn around and there is nothing, but I hear it again like a dog trotting up behind me through the leaves. Looking over my shoulder, I hope to see something, but there again it’s only me and the sound of my own feet. I start to quicken my pace, and then I hear the leaves rustle in one of the dark backyards behind me. Gauging my distance, I realize that I am about two blocks from home; but the darkened streetlight lies just ahead, which obscures the quickest way home. Inhaling deeply, I debate whether to take the darkened path or not. In my mind I come to the conclusion that if I do I will be in complete darkness with these strange sounds behind me. My heart beats rapidly and I start jogging with a fear growing inside me. I hear the leaves whisper, and my legs begin running faster. I decide impulsively to take the darkened pathway.
The crushing of the leaves behind me gets louder and louder. The breeze is gaining ground on me, whatever it is. My heartbeat becomes loud in my chest. I’m sure you could hear it if you were near me.
Suddenly, while I am making progress to my destination, I feel something at the back of my legs, a heavy weight that trips me and knocks me off balance. I lose my footing and realize I am heading to the ground and fast; as I drop forward to the ground, my hands instinctively land in front of me, breaking my fall, preventing me from hitting the ground with my face, my hands do not go unscathed. My legs also break the fall, brushing against the pavement; my foot hits a pothole. My knees scrape the pavement as do my hands; I can feel the inkling of pain when I scrape my flesh, but the pain doesn’t bother me or cause me to cry out. The only thing on my mind is what’s behind me and where are those sounds originating, and what has just plowed into me. I crawl away looking behind to find an empty street; there is nothing there. Scrambling to my feet, I dash haphazardly to my front yard when the swishing begins again behind me; I am inches away from the front door; I open it, and feeling that I cannot close it fast enough.
Switching on every light, I go around the house locking every door and checking the windows to make sure they are secure. Engaged in safety mode, I dial my father’s number; he talks to me and listens to my bizarre story. Sympathizing with me, he calms me down and gives me instructions to lock the doors and leave a couple of lights on, convincing me that everything will be okay.
Before I decide to retire to bed I leave the porch and entry lights on; I grab the cordless phone and take it into the bedroom. Whiskers is already curled up on the corner by the edge of the bed. “Hey, buddy, I think it’s time to get some shut eye.” It dawns on me that I won’t get much sleep tonight so I exaggerate; I turn on a dim lamp in the corner of the room then lie down, pulling the covers over my head.
Throughout the night each creak and sound keep me awake. I am aware of the sounds that the wind makes blowing against the windowpane. It makes my heart pound and skips a few beats yet again. Whiskers looks at me sleepily as if to reassure me that I am going to be just fine.
It is just around dust and I am driving home from my parents’ house a week later. I yawn, it is only 7:30 in the evening but I feel especially tired and content after enjoying my mother’s lake trout. My parents live in the country, a mere fifteen miles from my quaint house in Cirrus.
Switching the channel on my radio, I search for a station to listen to; this goes on for a few minutes, but a peripheral view of my left eye reveals a reddish tint that immediately catches my attention. Right then and there it seems to be levitating out of the ditch and going towards the road at a rapid speed; as I watch it glide, I almost become paralyzed as it crosses the highway; it has a lurid but blurry trail following it. I am unable to slow down and it flies by the front of my car but the image seems too large to be a dog, but too small to be a deer. The creature has a fuzzy glow and I am still unable to identify what it is and can’t determine what type of animal it is, as it nears my windshield. It passes my car almost unharmed, and instantly the front passenger side of my car clips it. My heart rate increases when I know that I hit it. “Shit!” I feel the impact of the animal and slow down to pull off to the side of the road to check the damage of my car. Stopping the car I put it in park. Switching on the hazards, I grab my maglite that is hidden underneath my seat.
Climbing outside of the car on the shoulder, I quickly go to the front of the vehicle and see that the passenger side is dented below the headlight. There are a few strands of long hair caught between the crease of the headlight and the car. Picking the hairs out I hold them up; examining them with the beams of my flashlight. They are orange, coarse and strange and don’t appear to be dog or deer hair. I stand up from the front fender looking in the direction toward the rear of the car to see if the animal is lying in the ditch. I don’t see anything in or near the ditch. Shining the light back and around my car, I take a few steps on the shoulder towards the ditch realizing there is absolutely no traffic. There is no carcass, and I hear rustling in the woods; it gets closer and louder. I see the orange glow again now coming straight at me and it reaches me knocking me down on my back. My head hits the ground and all I see is a blue light then darkness.
Off in the distance, I can hear the whine of semi-tires as they drive by; it sounds like the highway. Opening my eyes I see dead leaves and trees, my body feels cold and sore. I am lying on my side on the ground; I realize I am in the woods. How did I get here? It is cool here in the woods; looking down, I find my nails are dirty and I peer at my clothes to see how tattered and dirty they seem to be. They are caked with mud. There is a rip on the side of my shirt and I feel a dull, aching pain in my side. I touch it and feel through the rip that I have a wound. I look and see a bite mark. Confused by this whole situation, I climb to my feet, my head pounds and I remember the orange glow coming at me and knocking me down. As I look around, I see nothing but trees. The back of my head feels painful and tender, I touch it feeling leaves and twigs in my hair; I pull them out. I walk towards the highway. My head and side both throb as I make my way to the road; which is only about 50 yards from where I woke up. My car is there, the headlights are off and I can see there is an orange ticket on the window. The ticket remains on the window as I climb into the car; the keys are in the ignition. Gazing into the rearview mirror, I see that my eyes are an orange tint. My eyes are supposed to be brown, but now they are orange.
In this strange condition I drive to the emergency room just to be safe and check if anything is wrong with me. As I walk into the hospital, I can smell the sick people around me. It seems as if I am in slow motion, as I walk past them. I can smell the weak and it entices me in a weird, sick way. The beeping sounds throughout the hospital seem faint for a moment while I notice all these things. Then everything speeds up back to normal and I can hear just as I should.
I wait patiently for my doctor in the tiny emergency room. When he comes in I offer him my explanation as I remember it. Showing him my side, I let him examine it with his latex, powdered gloves. “Are you sure this happened last night?”
“Yes.”
Pulling the torn material away from the wound, he looks at it and touches it. “This looks like a dog bite; were you bitten by a dog?”
Shrugging I look at him. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” Confused, he looks at me.
“Are you sure? This looks like a canine bite but it isn’t fresh; it looks a few days old. It’s healing well.”
Hearing all that the doctor is telling me, I am stunned. Before I leave, he gives me a tetanus shot; being terrified of needles my whole life, I know it is going to hurt. As he inserts the needle, I feel absolutely nothing. I don’t feel any hint of pain. “That’s strange.”
“What?” he asks.
“Oh nothing,” He clears me, telling me to keep my wound clean, and I head home. I climb the steps on the porch, I unlock the door. Mr. Whiskers hurries to the steps.
“Hey, Whiskers” He sees me and hisses. “What’s wrong?” He hisses like a “madman.” His back hairs stand straight up, and then he bolts away from the house. “Whiskers!”