The Journal 2 - A Short Story Collection

Playtime

Every night I let my Rottweiler, Potato, outside to play in the backyard. He enjoyed chasing squirrels, kicking his toys around, and then relaxing on the porch while the sun sets. We had a beautiful view of the lake from our hillside home. The sunsets reflected brilliantly off the water.

Once dark, I let him back inside to be given a treat before we both went to bed. It was the nightly routine. A routine that changed unexpectedly over the past week.

I let Potato out per usual, but he later came back with scratches he'd never had before. It wasn't normal for him to be that rough on his own, even when he chased squirrels. I doubt the squirrels suddenly fought back.

No... this looked like a larger animal attack.

But each night, there were either new scratches, or whimpering about something I couldn't see. It concerned me greatly, but to my surprise the wounds were healed the very next day. I was no doctor, but that didn't make sense to me.

I even took him to the vet to be extra sure there wasn't anything wrong. They told me Potato was in perfect health.

The final straw came when Potato walked in the next night whimpering with a full blackened handprint on his back. I took care of the injury as best as I could wondering if it'll heal by tomorrow, or if another vet trip was in order.

Then I went outside to see if I could find the person responsible. I spent thirty minutes wandering around my yard with a flashlight but found nothing. Mainly to my disappointment. I wanted to teach whoever did this to my dog a lesson.

The next night, I didn't send my dog out. For a whole week I didn't send him out during the evening. He was only allowed out during the day with me, with a last call before the sun fully set.

Nothing and no one came to attack Potato then.

I let Potato sleep with me on my bed, something I've been letting him do lately. Perhaps I was more paranoid from recent events, but I felt more comfortable with him securely by my side.

Closing my eyes for much needed sleep, a loud pounding banged its way up the stairs and stopped outside my door. I bolted up, snatching my bat next to my bed, ready for whoever came. I stepped out of bed as the door blew open and off of its hinges.

Screaming, I felt my body slam against the wall, though nothing seemed to be holding me up to it. As if an invisible force kept me stuck to it. I watched Potato glid off the bed, a fresh blackened handprint on his side. He slid out the door whining. But I couldn't move.

"Nighttime is playtime!" a voice echoed around me. "Nighttime is playtime!"

I felt something grab my neck, squeezing harder until I couldn't breathe anymore. My vision started to fade as the world around me went black.

Potato's bark was faint in my ears. It sounded angry. Fierce.

The force that held me released its hold and I fell to the floor. I heard shrieks that sent chills down my spine and made me cover my ears. Lights flickered constantly turning my home into what resembled a party. All I could see were shadows in the hallway, one dog, and one humanoid creature.

It looked disfigured with multiple arms jutting out of its backside. Some had razor sharp knife-like ends to them. I couldn't get much more out of the shadow, nor did I want to.

But it seemed that it wouldn't matter in the end. The shadow vanished with one last wail, sending my home into darkness. I sat still, keeping my breath steady as I waited for whatever would come next. My body didn't want to move an inch for the fear of that thing coming back.

The light pats on the floor started to move towards me. At first, I tensed up. I didn't know if it was Potato or the creature. Then several licks smacked my face. I jumped backward at the first but welcomed the rest.

"I guess you're the protector of this house, huh?" I asked him. He continued to lick my face.

I moved out the next day. Anywhere was better than there.

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