Spectral Hound

      “See them red eyes.” The Royal Marine next to me nudged me to the left. He spoke like gravel over marble. “B*****d sent ‘is b***h out again.”

        I stared at the blinking red eyes. During the daytime, the vista was all white. Often there was a fog. Such a fog that turned green trees into pale shadows. Just greyish dregs on the horizon. At night, with the lights turned off, all was pitch black. A room with no windows. Yet the Marine could see. He had lost an ear in the Falklands, a pinkie in each of the gulf wars. “I’ve seen Osama.” He would say every now and then. “Saw him two days before the six of us saved a ton of yanks from a few dozen Afghans.”

        I’d soon learnt not to mention Tora Bora or anyone named Tara or for that matter Palmer. “We laid down covering fire.” He’d say as he drew a map. “Two of us got hit but we still rescued those yanks.”

        In fact, I had learnt that if an American was ever on the same continent then I was never to mention Osama Bin Laden.

        However, this was different. Many worlds touched here yet there were none. This was Blighty. This was America owned Blighty. The spectral hounds of the Cotswolds had broken free of their old lands. “Show them eyes some strength boy. These b*****s can see fear.”

        I nodded. Feel no fear, I thought to myself and swallowed that lump in my throat. The dog’s eyes seemed sweet, almost beautiful at first glance. As if reading my thoughts the Old Marine rubbed his pinkie stump and leaned towards me. “Don’t get lured in now. These b*****s bite. Specially when they’re angry. They’re tetchy buggers.”

        Our eyes never broke off. My pale brown ones and those molten red beads. They pierced through me. Could it read my soul? Know how useless I was inside? The darkness shrank between us. I could smell damp fur. Sweat? Rain? I’d never felt rain in this place. “It’s sweat.” Marble on gravel. “Those that are egged on…”
        “Are the most angry and the most afraid too.”
        I finished for him.

        My hand ran along the pommel of my sword. This was my first time. My first wolf all over again. The first had just licked my fingers and sat down beside me. A good omen they said. This was no wolf. It was a rabid dog of war. Those eyes. They would melt many a heart. Even as its frothing maw dropped to reveal its sharpened stakes. Any who stared would grant mercy as it devoured them.
        
        Could I hurt an animal? When I had volunteered for the duty, the Marine had laughed at me. “You don’t have what it takes to kill an animal. To you it’s all Andrex puppies and Dulux dogs.”

        Sensing my faltering resolve the dog turned. Its eyes flipped and shrank to little dots. Tracers. So be it. As if the Devil himself had whispered into his ears, the b***h came forth as the sun rose. From all around new red dots appeared as if Cerberus had awoken before me. No way, I told myself as my hand slid down to the hilt of my sword. Fingertips ran along the flamed wings of the twin Phoenixes. As silent as snow it slid from the scabbard. “Hound Slayer, I call you.” I whispered.

        Our eyes never broke. The fake heads and dogs lunged for me. Phantoms to the winds. I stood unbowed. A Willow to the whisps. With a stroke of my blade, the dog was cloven in two. Steel bit into flesh and bone. The fake heads faded as it slid to the ground dying. The red eyes deepened again. They were filled with love. It looked behind me in desperation pleading for help. As I looked up I saw a silhouette of a man, whip in hand, standing beside a window. Grey on white.
        “The dog sees no betrayal.” I whisper.
        “Right.” Gravel on marble returned. “The dog died for its master’s love. Yet to the master this is just another dog.”
 

Reviews

[BrightEyes]

you've done an excellent job with this tale. I was engrossed from the start, living it word for word. I was at once both afraid he wouldn't kill the dog, and afraid he would. A disturbing tale, I always hate when the animals have to pay for their humans shortcomings, but wonderfully written.

laura

[T. R. Writer]

Wow. To be honest, this isn't even the type of story I would normally read, but the imagery is beautiful and so real that I could imagine everything with ease. You tell this story with such detail that it brings the reader in, transports them to this part of the world... I imagined a desert, somewhere in the middle of nowhere where all you could see for miles and miles is desert and those dogs/wolves with their red eyes. Have you ever read The Alchemist? The imagery from your story reminded me of some of the imagery in that book. Great job.