If you've ever gone to the Breck Farm campsite, chances are you've heard the rumors about Dog-Gone. Some say it's a deranged serial killer with the head of a dog, while other sources tell of a werewolf-like being that lives in the forest. Most people dismiss these as simple campfire tales. But the true story of Dog-Gone is something much, much darker...
It's the summer of 2010 and Breck Farm is buzzing with customers. This tale concerns an elderly janitor called Jonathan Windshaw, and his dog, Boney. He lived in a small storage room in the campsite's shower block. There were rumors that Jonathan had a taste for the occult, but he worked hard and the campsite was short on staff. It was a tough life, and Jonathan had to work long hours to provide for him and his dog. But at the end of the day, it was a living.
However, unknown to anyone's knowledge, a killer was at the campsite. Their name cannot be disclosed for legal reasons. One night, while Jonathan was sleeping, the killer crept into the storage room and violently killed the old janitor's dog. The next morning, Jonathan was distraught and the killer had fled. Broken with grief, he locked himself in the storage room and didn't come out for several days. Rumors started floating around that he had killed himself, or gone insane.
Then, strange things started to happen. Dogs went missing, people saw things out in the woods. If you went in the shower block at night, you could hear scratching and the sound of someone imitating a dog's bark. Finally, the campsite staff took a look in the old storage room. What they saw was horrifying.
The decaying body of Boney was strung up above a crude pentagram. At least a dozen skinless dogs were piled into a corner, surrounded by flies. The room stank of bodily fluids. And the staff were about to see why...
Sitting in the corner of the room was Jonathan Windshaw, or at least, what he had become. He was still wearing the tattered green boiler suit all the janitors wore, but there was something else he was wearing. A crude mask, made of dog skin and fur roughly stitched together. In some patches you could still see hanging muscle tissue. The cheeks were held up with staples to form a leering grin with mismatched fangs poking out. If you looked deep into the sagging eyeholes you could see two pairs of eyes, one human, but also a pair of dog eyes pushed far back into the head. It was clear what had happened. Jonathan had gone insane and killed and skinned at least 15 dogs to make this... mask. As he sat there, snuffling and pretending to make dog noises, the lead staff member pulled a gun and shot him square in the head.
They sealed up the storage room to avoid police involvement. But somehow, Jonathan Windshaw is still alive. Reborn as Dog-Gone, he hunts the campsite, killing dogs and people alike to add to his collection.
This story is part of the Breck Farm Anthology.