Skin flakes...
Today has been the third day in a row that I've woken up with the white flakes in my room. God, the stuff is everywhere. I don't know how it's getting in. I pissed it off, why did I have to be so stupid? I could have just left it alone... But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me try to tell my strange tale from the beginning.
I moved into this house about four months ago. I lived alone, except for my Saint Bernard, Jud. I raised him from a pup, and I shared a strong bond with him. The house is on the edge of a deep forest, and I used to spend my quiet, July evenings on my back porch, with Jud. I went through this nightly routine until the warm summer air turned into crisp, cool, Fall air.
Jud would stroll along the treeline in the afternoon, while I prepared dinner. He was a big dog, and I wasn't worried about him being attacked by a coyote or a raccoon. That was why I was so surprised when he came back one particularly cold night, half whimpering, half growling. It appeared that he had been in a fight with something, I couldn't figure out what. The strangest thing was that Jud was covered in white, skin flakes. They smelled like rot, I knew immediately that they didn't belong to my dog. I swept the flakes away, but I could not get that terrible smell out of my house.
About a week later, Jud and I were enjoying a cool midday breeze on the back porch. Ever since the fight, Jud would no longer walk anywhere near the woods. In fact, he barely went outside anymore. As I stared dreamily into the trees, my mind focusing on tonight's dinner, I saw something strange. I guess Jud had seen it too because he let out a low, guttural growl. I realized in astonishment what exactly I was looking at. A creature was standing by a stump about halfway to the forest from my house, its reptilian head and beady little eyes were fixated on me. It had black fur from head to toe.
It looked so strange that I let out a little nervous chuckle. I looked harder and noticed that there were patches of white fur on its neck and broad shoulders. No wait, not white fur... flakes... of dead skin. A shiver ran down my spine and I started to sweat.
Jud started that menacing growl again. The creature started to walk towards the house. I had to think fast. My mind was racing as it got ever so closer. I needed... something... something... to throw! I grabbed the rock that I had been using to prop my back door open, and pelted it at the creature. The rock struck the animal in the chest. It grunted. Flakes went into the air like a fine powder. The door slammed shut. It scampered off into the darkening woods.
I didn't see the creature for a full month. Jud even started to go back out again. I could have just left it alone, for all I know that could have been the last time I would ever have seen it. But I had to set the traps. I'm so sorry, Jud. Please forgive me.
I got a few old bear traps and set them around the stump, hidden in the tall grass.
That night, Jud slept at the foot of my bed. We both heard the roar. I sprung up and rushed outside with a kitchen knife, my faithful companion at my side. The beast was nowhere to be found, but in one of the traps there were three, furry, clawed black toes. They dripped fresh blood into what seemed like a pile of flakes. Suddenly, another loud roar echoed from the forest.
Jud sprinted after the horrible thing that was making that noise. I shouted and shouted for him to come back, but he wouldn't listen. He disappeared into those deep woods. I waited hours into the night for him to return. He never did. I knew the next morning when he wasn't at the back door waiting for me, that my puppy was gone forever. I sobbed that entire day.
That was four days ago, and every day since the flakes, those horrible retched flakes have been everywhere. That thing is in the house now. I can feel it as I write this. But I am ready to die, my dog is waiting for me.
I smell the rot.
Aftermath[]
MAY 9TH, 2013- A local man, Charlie Bridges, reported seeing a strange animal that he referred to as "Scarface" because the creature seemed to be covered in some type of white powder, while he was hunting in a dense forest by the abandoned house of John Davis, who was found murdered three years ago in his home. His murderer is still at large.