RED DOG

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Submitted Date 09/12/2018
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Lara and I decided it was time to move from our little, brick flat in Northside Pittsburgh as last summer was coming to an end.  We’d known, from the very moment we’d found out that she was pregnant that it wasn’t the place to raise a child.  Sure, Northside was safe enough, for the most part, but that didn’t set it apart from your typical city setting.  There was crime still, and there were sirens droning in the middle of the night, and there were break-ins and bar fights and things like that.  We tried to scrape some money together to move before the baby came, but that didn’t happen, and the next five years didn’t prove any different.  We were new parents, we had already been struggling to make ends meet, and even with a seemingly endless amount of overtime at my job, there just wasn’t anything left.  But when Danny Wharf, the fifty-some-year-old who lived only a few houses down from us, was shot while defending his belongings in a break-in, we knew it was time to leave – money or not.  So we did what we could – we mortgaged out a little, old house in Brockway, only two hours east, and we moved everything in a matter of weeks.

I can still remember our little Aubrey, eyes wide, mangy Clifford stuffed animal held tight in her little hands, staring out the car window as we left Pittsburgh for good.  She had cried a bit when we’d told her, mainly because we felt compelled to let her know that she wouldn’t be attending her same school that Fall and, as such, wouldn’t be able to see her friends Sabrina or Hannah or Lacey for a while.  But when we’d told her that she’d make new friends, she’d brightened up.  Really, when it came to the last day, I think she was the most prepared of us all.  My wife and I were scared: her leaving her job, me still trying to hang onto mine with a new two-hour commute to and from to deal with – but Aubrey was excited to have a yard, and to see a new school and, of course, to make new friends.  I listened to her talk about it, and then the talking turned to wishful singing, and then, slowly, the singing segued into sleep.  I watched her the whole ride to Brockway in my rearview mirror.  Nothing in life made me happier than my daughter.

When we arrived at the new house and Aubrey was unbuckled from her car-seat, she immediately set off into the yard at full tilt.  It wasn’t the prettiest yard, nor the biggest, but it was more space than she’d ever had before.  There was a privacy fence that surrounded it and, though it was wilting in some places, all of the boards were there.  There was a small copse of three trees in one corner and a sandbox left from the previous tenants – riddled with twigs but useable.  Slightly off from the center was a cinderblock firepit that had seen some use, but the bricks hadn’t cracked much and the thought of spending warm summer nights roasting s’mores over an open flame with my wife and my daughter was more than alluring.  It was the yard and the fence that had sold my wife on the purchase of the little ranch-style house on Baker Street.  From the moment she’d seen it through the kitchen window, all Lara had talked about was how much Aubrey would love to have a yard to play in.  It seemed, as always, that she’d been right.

My wife and I gradually made our way into the new house, making sure to keep careful watch on Aubrey who’d already set up shop in the sandbox with Clifford by her side.  The inside of the home was relatively spacious, and we’d already managed to move a fairly large number of our belongings into their respective rooms, so we opted to relax and acquaint ourselves with the space instead of immediately moving into more busy work.  My wife grabbed me a beer, poured herself a glass of wine, and we walked out the small set of sliding doors onto the little, cobbled patio space.  The sun was just setting on the horizon, the darkness of night bleeding blue through the weather-beaten canopy that spanned just a few feet above the doorway.  Aubrey picked up her Clifford, hugging him close before standing and running to shake all of the sand she’d managed to cake herself in loose.  Lara absently played with her wedding ring, a smile spread wide across her face.  I just took a deep breath and enjoyed the moment because I knew that the calm couldn’t last forever.

The first week back to work was almost hellish, if not simply because of my naturally having no grounding in time.  The first day back, I’d jumped out of bed only minutes before I was supposed to be on the road, and had to forego my regular shower and shave in lieu of making it to work on time.  The rest of the week seemed to follow suit in this respect – almost late, heavy workload, menial breaks, and a longing to just return to my new home where my wife and my daughter awaited.  While I toiled or sat in traffic, they busied themselves by meeting the new neighbors, seeking out nearby parks, and just keeping up with general day-to-day tasks.  Every evening, I clocked out, rode home, and found dinner waiting for me under a thin layer of cellophane.  I ate while Lara talked and the television played episodes of Houswives, played with Aubrey a little before putting her to bed, and then closed the night out with a beer.  Lara would tell me about how she’d met the neighbors – all of whom seemed to be relatively elderly folk with either no children or children who were our age or older – or how she’d started tilling some soil in the yard for a little garden.  I’d listen and tell her about my workday, and then we’d retire to our bedroom for the night.  Eventually, this became the usual, and I came to look forward to hearing about how Aubrey had been given hard candies by an elderly neighbor, only to spit them out when she discovered they were black licorice flavored, or how Lara had planted a new Geranium along the edge of the yard and hoped it would do well.

We’d been in Brockway for a little over a month when I first realized that Aubrey had started to have conversations with her stuffed Clifford doll.

It was a hot night, just like the last and the one before that, and we’d opened all of the windows and turned on all the fans in the hopes that the movement of the air would somehow abate the intense mugginess that had settled over our home.  Some blonde woman was on the television, angrily berating a so-called “friend” for speaking poorly to the press about her, when I heard Aubrey’s telltale giggle from her room.  Lara shot me a glance, her lips curling into a smile, and I took the moment to steal away the remote and toggle the volume to a lower setting.  We listened intently for our daughter:

“Of course we’re friends!” She shouted behind her closed door.  There was a lull and then she giggled again.  “No, we can’t go play outside right now.  It’s too dark out!”

Lara and I chuckled.  In the very least, we’d managed to teach Aubrey the difference between playtime and downtime.  The television screen flickered after a horribly gaudy title screen appeared momentarily and then a slew of commercials began their steady march across the airwaves.  I pressed the mute button and we listened closer:

“You got me a present?”  There was another pause, then:  “Oh!  Why thank you!  It’s so pretty!”

I laughed and turned to Lara.  “Well, isn’t she Little Miss Manners?”  Lara playfully nudged me and I smiled.  “Must come from your side of the family.  What do you think Clifford’s present was?”

“Probably a stick from one of those trees.  God knows Aubrey was just covered in sap from them today!”

I laughed.  “Well, how about we find out?”

I called for my daughter and, immediately, she went quiet.  After a few moments, her door eased open and she came padding out of her room, clad in her flower-patterned pajamas and holding Clifford close in her wrapped arms.  She had a serious look on her face and was walking slowly.  That’s when I saw the red flower in her hair.

Lara called Aubrey to her.  “Aubrey, where did you get that flower from?”

“My Red Dog gave it to me, Mommy.”

“Clifford gave you the flower?” Lara asked.  Aubrey nodded solemnly.  Lara continued:  “Did Clifford get it from Mommy’s garden?”

Aubrey shrugged.

Lara glanced at me and then turned back to Aubrey.  “Well, this time, I guess it’s okay, but could you please ask Clifford to leave Mommy’s flowers alone.  She just planted them today and they need time to grow big and strong, just like him!”

Aubrey giggled and agreed.  After a few minutes of joking around, we decided it was Aubrey’s bedtime.  She tried to protest, saying that she and her Red Dog were supposed to have a tea party still that night, but she didn’t put up too much of a fight when we told her she could do that tomorrow.  We brought her in her room, kissed her goodnight, and returned to the living room.  Before long, we decided to go to bed too.

As time went on, Aubrey’s conversations with her Clifford doll at night became more and more frequent.  Lara and I would almost always hear her talking about this or that with the toy – about the old neighbors or what she’d seen that day or where she’d been.  It was cute, the way she carried on, but Lara had become a little worried about it.  Eventually, she confided in me that she was afraid that Aubrey was becoming too attached to her toy – that, during the day, while I was away at work, Aubrey had seemingly stopped showing interest in the sandbox or the yard and instead preferred to spend more time in her room, prattling away with her somewhat-imaginary friend.  I reassured her, telling her that it was just because she was adjusting and that, in the Fall, when Aubrey went to her new school, she’d have plenty of other kids to spend time with.  Lara didn’t seem convinced but she agreed, and the conversation was dropped in hopes that I would be right.

Another month had passed and things had become easier at our new home.  I had managed to figure out what route was best from home to work and back and, as such, was lucky on more than one occasion to catch Lara, Aubrey and Clifford just sitting down for a late dinner upon my arrival.  It was on one of these occasions that I caught Aubrey attempting to sneak some of her food from her plate into her pocket.  When I asked her why she would do such a thing, she giggled and said, “It’s for my Red Dog, Daddy!”  I told her in no uncertain terms that pockets were very poor places to store food, but she just laughed.  I made her promise that, if Clifford was hungry, she’d just ask us instead of trying to sneakily stow some away for him at every meal.  She agreed but, even after, Lara would sometimes tell me that she’d found old bits of food in Aubrey’s room while cleaning throughout the day.  No matter how much we questioned our daughter, though, she refused to say another peep about it.

Fall came and so did school and, while Aubrey got along just fine with her classmates, she still seemed more interested in her Clifford toy.  Even though Lara suggested it, I couldn’t dare think of taking it away from her, if not simply because of the emotional fallout I was sure would come afterward.  So, we continued to let Aubrey do as she pleased.

Lara made the attempt to set up playdates with other children’s parents for Aubrey’s sake but, each time, they turned out the same – Aubrey paid almost no attention to her classmate and instead devoted all of her time to having a conversation with her toy, or in the very least talking about it for such a long time that the other child grew disinterested enough to leave.  Eventually, Lara stopped asking other parents to set up playdates altogether.  I told her that Aubrey would come around eventually but that, maybe, she was just missing her old friends.  Lara resolved to try and set up a little reunion at some point, and I suggested a party of some sort.  We decided to plan it for Aubrey’s birthday.

It was late Fall and we brought Aubrey to the bowling lanes, though she didn’t seem as excited as we would have hoped.  When she saw Sabrina and Hannah and Lacey all waiting for her, she perked up a bit, but she didn’t dare put down her Clifford doll.  Bowling was… difficult for her, to say the least, and her attention seemed split almost the entire time.  After only a game, Aubrey asked Lara and I when we were going to go home.  When we told her we still had to eat dinner, cut the cake, and open presents, Aubrey did something she’d almost never done – she threw a fit.  We ended the party shortly after, more worried than disappointed in her actions.  I told Lara to keep an eye on Aubrey.  I told her I would try to be around more, if I could.

Winter came and went and, with it, an all-new set of hardships to endure.  More food was going missing and ending up in Aubrey’s room, but she refused to tell us why or how it had gotten there.  Some of it was even from cupboards that we knew, very well, that Aubrey couldn’t reach, or from drawers that we’d taken careful consideration in latching to prevent her from opening them.

On top of this, towels and blankets, even bedspreads, were disappearing from our small linen closet.  We managed to find some of them tucked away beneath Aubrey’s bed, but a large portion seemed to have just disappeared.  When we asked Aubrey where they’d gone, she just told us that her Red Dog was cold.  I could tell how frustrated Lara was becoming with this “Red Dog” business, but I tried to console her as best I could.  She would grow out of it – I said.  It’s only a phase – I said.  Aubrey will be perfectly fine.

Spring arrived and then, seemingly from nowhere, the heat of summer rose like a furnace and blanketed the East Coast.  I managed to snag a different position at my job – a temporary one that allowed me more time at home as I could work remotely – and so I found myself often far more able to spend time with my wife and daughter again.  When I wasn’t working or playing with Aubrey, I used the extra time to make some much-needed improvements to our home.  I cleared out the crawlspaces and the attic.  I fixed some of the supports for the fence.  I trimmed the trees, hauled fieldstones in for Lara to use in her gardening, and even replaced the awning above the sliding doors.  Then, for good measure, I installed a few outside lights – motion and switch – so that Lara and I could enjoy our patio after Aubrey had gone to bed.  We even discussed putting on a little get-together some evening for our elderly neighbors, friends, and coworkers.  With everything shaping up, Lara seemed in better spirits.  It almost seemed like, for once, things were going to be easy.

Then came the night I heard voices from Aubrey’s room.

I was just finishing up having a cigarette and was getting ready for bed when, as I passed Aubrey’s room, I heard her talking.  She’d gone to bed some hours earlier, so I didn’t see why she should still be awake, but she was.  So I listened.

“No, I can’t get you anymore food.  My Mommy and Daddy have already yelled at me!”  Her tone was hushed but anxious.  I pictured her lying there, angrily poking at her stuffed animal and almost laughed.  But then, instead of silence, I heard a response.

“But I’m so hungry, Aubrey.  We’re friends, aren’t we?  Friends don’t let friends go hungry.”  The other voice was lower, more mature, but it slipped out and under the door like a hiss.  I felt my muscles tense and my heart immediately rocketed into my ears.  My breath caught in my throat.

“Of course we’re friends!  I fed you!  I made you a bed!  Just not tonight, mister!”  Aubrey was exasperated.  I waited to see if I had just imagined the other voice.  While things had definitely become easier, juggling everything that life had to offer still meant I was stressed, and I knew that stress could definitely cause some weird things.  As I sat there, in the hallway, and didn’t hear a response, I began to feel my heartbeat slow.  I almost sighed.  But then, I heard a small thump from behind the door and the knob began to turn.

“I’ll just get some myself,” the voice hissed.  The door eased open a crack and all I could see within was a sliver of blackness, pockmarked by the moonlight casting through her windows.  My eyes trailed downward.  Then, they fell on something black.  Our eyes met.

It hissed and immediately I felt my heart lurch into my chest.  I threw the door open and heard what had been behind it clatter backward.  Aubrey began to scream and I watched the shape in the darkness scramble.  Without a moment’s hesitation, it stole away through the shadows and leaped into the window, crashing through the glass with an explosive clatter and a thump on the hard earth outside.  I turned the light on and saw the shape tear out of view of the window – out into our yard.

I flew through our house, Aubrey still screaming and Lara now yelling in confusion and terror about the noise.  As I passed through the kitchen, I grabbed the nearest object I could to defend my family – a thin, long knife from our silverware drawer.  I sent the drawer clattering to the ground and its contents spilling.  I paid no attention.  I threw the sliding door open and charged onto the patio.

The motion lights erupted on and I saw the shape moving – no, bounding – from the edge of the yard.  What I saw, I can hardly put into words.

A man, or the shape of a man, careening across the turf on all fours.  His limbs were gaunt, his frame skeletal.  I saw, in that instant, no hair on his body, which was nothing less than completely naked as his limbs propelled him across the dirt in an adrenaline-fueled scramble.  He howled and hissed as he moved, not stopping for an instant, and though I moved after him as quickly as I could, he loped out of reach and deeper into the shadows.  I heard him slam into the fence, heard some of the boards crack and give way, and then saw as his thin fingers hooked over the fence’s top and launched him upward and over.  He disappeared over the other side and I stood there, knife in hand, wife and daughter screaming at my back. I felt the sickness that had been welling up in my throat drop like a stone into the very pit of my stomach as I listened to our feral visitor disappear.

I felt it drop because I knew, now, that my daughter hadn’t been speaking to her toy every night for the past year.  I knew, now, where the food and the blankets had been going.  I knew, now, that Brockway was no safer for my daughter than Pittsburgh had ever been – that it was only a different kind of dangerous, stranger and more terrible than I ever could have imagined.

I knew these things because I heard Aubrey yelling, “Red Dog!  Red Dog!  Come back!”

And because I’d seen, in the light as he had bounded away, the color of the man’s badly burnt skin – redder than the Devil himself.

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