Apex Book Company

I tried to warn them, but the humans wouldn’t listen and the cats just taunted me.

The faint paw prints in the dust were the first sign. I started sniffing out the cause and became alarmed at my findings. The great mastiff, Old Sam, my sire’s brother, warned me about such things, but I never thought I would see them for myself. I stayed with Sam’s family whenever my humans went away, and at night in the dark when the masters were asleep, he would whisper the old secrets.

“Nowadays it’s just considered Dog Lore, boy,” he would say in his deep growly voice. “But believe you me, these things can still happen. And it’s the forgettin’ that gives ‘em power. Promise me, boy, no matter what they tell ya’, you remember the truth. It’s your sacred duty.”

I promised him, of course. And later I tried to tell my friends at the park about my talks with Old Sam. They laughed at me and told me he was an old dog, and those were just stupid stories. The Doberman twins teased me about it so much one day that I lost my temper. One of them ended up at the vet – served him right. I got banned from the park.

But I never forgot Old Sam’s stories, and as the danger to my masters grew, I kept my word. He was long gone when the trouble started, but I knew I couldn’t let him down – it was my duty.

At first the furry Long Ears were confined to the space beneath the bed in Ashley’s room – no chance of discovery by the humans amidst the teenager’s detritus. I paced outside her door, but the silly girl wouldn’t let me in.

“Get away from my door, you stupid dog,” she said, followed by her favorite whine. “Mom! Goliath’s going to mess up my room.” As if I could make it any worse.

One of the cats arrived and curled around the Ashley’s ankles. She sneered at me as she picked it up for a cuddle. The cat grinned its smug grin as the girl carried her off into the room, slamming the door in my face. The cat would live to regret her preferred status.

#

The unseen fiends seemed emboldened by my banishment, and their infestation spread down the hall. Their numbers were multiplying, as their kind was destined to do.

As my concern escalated, my mistress caught me digging and scratching under the boy’s bed - apparently I damaged the finish on the hardwood floor. She gave me a stern warning and sent me to the laundry room for punishment. It was there I discovered the nest – it was under the dryer. I heard their dusty voices and the sounds of hopping before they detected my presence. At that moment, I decided, if need be I would stand guard there for the rest of my days. I would not allow the evil to spread and harm my family. I had to stop Dust Bunnies.

Day after day and night after night, I held vigil in the laundry room. On one the cats stopped by, as usual to mock my efforts.

“You lummox,” she said as she passed by the door with her fluffy groomed tail held high.

She circled back and lingered, rubbing against the doorjamb.

“Goliath’s the big hero – guarding the dirty underwear. Oh, I do feel ever so much safer now.” She walked away with a dismissive glance over her shoulder.

“Loser!”

Eventually the furry devils beneath the dryer became restless – I was thwarting their plans. If I nodded off for even a moment, they darted out to pluck my whiskers or poke me with sharp objects. I thought if I could only hold out long enough, perhaps they would tire of waiting and leave through the dryer vent, then my humans would be safe. But my masters worried that I wasn’t eating so they brought dishes of kibble and water to my stronghold. I tried to resist but eventually they coaxed me from the laundry room to relieve myself, and the determined little beasts started to plan their operations around my forced relief schedule. They ducked out while I was gone to spill my water dish and prove to me they were on the move and winning the war.

Finally, I refused to leave my fortress. I had to protect my family. They didn’t understand the danger they were facing. Unable to hold my bladder any longer, I soiled the floor. My master’s patience was already growing thin with my laundry room vigil, but the soiling completely destroyed my credibility.

My master hurled threats of the pound, as he dragged me from the laundry room. I strained and pulled at my collar as he tore me away from the only safety I could ensure the family. I whimpered as the voices giggled and chittered and chided me from under the dryer. My master forced me to the front door and threw me outside into the yard.

“Maybe a night alone in the cold will sort you out, Goliath.”

I was frantic. I barked and clawed at the door. As the lights went out for the night, I howled in wretched fear for my family. If only I could make them listen, get them to let me back inside the house.

But no one came to the door, instead they shouted from the upstairs window.

“You’re going to the pound tomorrow! That’s it! Now, SHUT UP!”

I lowered my head, and dropped my ears. I silenced my sorrowful howls. Wandering around to the deck at the back of the house, I peered through the sliding glass doors, hoping I could at least keep watch from there.

For hours nothing happened. A tentative relief came over me. Perhaps all the threats from the dusty nest were hollow. Maybe my family was safe after all. The moon washed over me in the chilly night. I was weary, and I stretched out on my stomach and rested my muzzle on my paws so I could keep watch through the big glass doors. Soon all the stress and burden of the last few weeks came over me. My eyelids felt like stones, and finally I fell into a deep sleep.

As I slept, I dreamed good dog dreams of running with the boy in the green grass of the yard and fetching my yellow tennis ball. My master looked on with pride, and scratched behind my ears when I came to show him my ball.

“Good boy, Goliath. You are the best dog a family could ever have.”

My heart soared with joy and love for my humans. I would give my life for them.

Tap, Tap, Tap. The sound roused me from my dream, and I felt the cold night air in my bones and the frosted dew on my nose. Tap, Tap, Tap. I opened my eyes to the sight of hundreds of the dusty little long-eared fiends on the other side of the glass doors. They were each holding a weapon; the one tapping on the glass was grinning a long-toothed grin and wielding a meat clever from the kitchen above his scraggly cockeyed ears. Several of the others waved their paws at me, bouncing up and down on their mutant bunny hind feet. A procession passed in front of the door, at least twenty of the dirty beasts danced by, carrying a half-bald cat, legs tied to a broomstick like a pig ready for the spit. The cat’s once pink tongue lolled bloody from her mouth. As they paraded by, whiskers twitching, I could hear their wicked laughter through the door.

I leapt to my feet and barked with all my might, and something hit the glass with a splatter. It stuck to the window in a red sticky mass. As it began its smeary slide down the glass, I could see it was a human ear. I was too late.

In a panic, I barked and pounded my heavy paws against the glass door, but the little beasts turned their backs and shook their dusty cotton tails at me. Through the doorway across the room, I could see hundreds of them dragging a body down the stairs, like grimy-furred Lilliputians. I pounced at the doors, throwing the entire weight of my Mastiff body at the glass - the frame cracked and splintered. I barked and howled and continued to hurl myself against the glass until the wood around the door finally gave way. The doors caved in and the glass shattered on the hardwood floor, destroying the little fiends that hadn’t managed to scatter.

Oblivious to my bloodied paws, I raced across the broken glass and into the living room, heading straight for the stairs and the dusty rodents that were still dragging my unconscious master. They turned and attacked, hacking at my paws with knives and scissors, jumping on my back and stabbing me with ice picks and steak knives, but I bit and I ripped and tore at them until their tiny bodies were strewn like rag dolls motionless around the room. Badly bleeding, I padded quickly to my Master’s side in hopes he was still alive. The gaping hole in the side of his head where his ear had been, oozed with thick dark blood. I drew my tongue gently across his cheek. I could feel his warmth – he was still alive. I licked him again, and his eyes fluttered open.

With relief he looked into my face and whispered, “Goliath.” Then his eyes widened and shone with terror. “Upstairs, boy. Get them!” he rasped.

I bounded up the steps to save the others. The master’s bedroom looked like a massacre –my mistress’s body hung limp over the side of the bed, bloodied and shredded. I ran ahead to my boy’s closed door, relieved when all there seemed quiet. Suddenly, shrieks sounded from the teenager’s room. A wet trail of red paw prints led to her open door. As I burst into the room, I saw hundreds of the beasts swarming over the floor and around a fluffy feline mass at the foot of the bed. Some of the fiends had broken away from the pack and were beginning their climb up the bedspread. The terrified girl was huddled against the headboard, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Goliath, they’re eating the cat! “Help me!” she whimpered through snot and tears. Please….”

I leapt into action mauling and trampling the Long Tooths, but there were so many of them. They swarmed over my body, ripping and tearing at my ears, slicing into my flesh with their house hold weapons and their razor-claws.

As I felt my strength ebbing with the loss of blood, to my horror, I noticed little Teddy standing wide-eyed and frozen in the doorway. I barked a warning and lumbered behind the bed, trying to distract the Long Tooths from the boy. Flailing my head around, I flung the beasts into the air, and as I drew the mass of fiends away from the door, Ashley made a run for it, grabbing Teddy by the hand. For just a moment she glanced back at me, her face streaked with tears; then the two of them disappeared, leaving me alone with the horde. With great relief, I heard the children running down the stairs.

I struggled to survive, but the fiends kept coming. The blood loss and the pain of my torn flesh was draining me of strength, but I knew the longer I distracted the dark rodents, the more hopeful I was that my family would escape with their lives.

Howling my final battle cry, as my ancestors would have done, I reared up on my hind legs, and tossed the beasts from my back. Coming down hard, I hammered them with my paws again and again, trampling their wicked bodies. I gnashed with my still powerful jaws - the taste of their bodies sickening, their black blood spilling from my muzzle as I continued my assault.

Long painful moments passed during the battle, how many I’m not sure, but I sensed the house was finally vacant of my humans. Bone weary and staggering with dizziness, I stumbled with the weight of the next wave of the Long Tooths’ attack. Taking advantage of my weakness, the rabid beasts dragged me to the floor. Snarling and drooling they blinded me with their claws. As if from far away, I heard unfamiliar voices, shouts, the popping of gunfire.

My body failed me, and I could no longer struggle. As my pain passed away from my awareness, my thoughts wandered to the ancient Mastiff Lore and Old Sam; I knew he would be proud. Entrusted with the sacred duty, I had saved my family from the old evil – from the Long Tooths.

END

Fran Friel is a full-time writer and part-time slave to a band of domestic animal masters. She spends quality time with her husband pretending they live in Maui. Living in Connecticut, this pretending requires a vivid imagination, which brings us back to the writing.

Fran’s writing has won competitions at The Horror Library and Lamoille Lamentations, and has appeared in print and online at The Horror Library, Insidious Reflections, Wicked Karnival, The Lightning Journal and Dark Recesses Press.

Fran’s novella, Mama’s Boy, released by Insidious Publications in 2006, was nominated for a Bram Stoker Award in Long Fiction. A collection of her short stories, including Mama’s Boy will be published in Spring 2008 by Apex Book Company.

You can visit Fran at www.FranFriel.com.

Order Fran Friel’s collection Mama’s Boy and Other Dark Tales from Apex Publications.