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stegrossaurus · 2 years

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Barking in the Dark

by Murphy

The doorbell rings and I’m on my feet faster than you can blink.

“Get out of here! Get away from my house, you monsters!” I shout at the door.

But of course my dad, genius that he is, pulls me back by my collar and actually opens the door. Are you kidding me? He’s going to let those things in. I try to pull my head out of my collar, but it’s too tight. The nightmares on the other side of the door chant ‘Trick or Treat’ and Dad starts giving them candy! What the hell’s going on?

“Dad, stop it!” I shout at him. “They’re monsters, look at them! And also, I want that candy!”

“Murph, knock it off,” Dad grumbles at me, trying to nudge me away with his foot. “Sorry about him. He’s just being goofy. Happy Halloween, kids.”

At long last, all my shouting scares the creatures away and Dad closes the door. Still won’t give me the candy, though. So much for a reward for saving our lives.

“Dad, you can’t keep opening the door like that,” I tell him when he sits down on the stairs. “There’s zombies and dragons and Hamburglars and fairy princesses out there. It’s too dangerous.”

As always, he doesn’t listen. He just scratches me behind my ears and kisses my head. Then he gives me that look that means he’s going to say he loves me. I wag my tail in anticipation.

“Murphy, I love you,” he says and heart almost explodes with joy. Dad loves me! Can you believe it? “But you’ve got to calm down. Those kids aren’t going to hurt us. Promise.”

Hmm. They did smell kind of familiar, I guess. But how can something smell human and look inhuman? It makes no sense. I wait for Dad to explain that, but he doesn’t; just another head kiss.

Then the doorbell rings. More intruders. More monsters!

“Get out of here! Shoo! Don’t touch my stuff! Why do you look like a dalmatian? You’re not a dalmatian! Dad, can you believe this guy? He’s–Dad, stop opening the door!”

Why does he keep opening the damn door? For Dog’s sake, what does he think is happening here? Demons have clearly taken over the universe and rubbed themselves with human blood and urine to mask their scent, and Dad’s feeding them candy bars instead of me. Are humans just loony?

Finally, I scare away the beasts and go for a treat. But of course, Dad holds the bowl out of my reach and tells me my food will come later. Assuming I don’t starve by then. With nothing else to do, I keep vigil at the window. The streets are crawling with these things and the few actual humans out there don’t even notice. Look at them, some of them are actually escorting the little freaks from house to house.

Speaking of which…

“Dad, get the hose or something! The monsters are coming!”

“Murphy, sweetie, this is not the time for all that,” Dad says, sounding tired. Against my protests, he gets up and heads for the door. “Please calm down. Look, it’s the neighbor lady. You remember her, right?”

I do, in fact, and I quite like her. She patted my head once. Which is why I’m just a bit anxious about her traveling with a masked demon. He smells like her son, but he looks too different. I know there’s something weird going on, why can’t anyone else see it? Still, I keep my peace. Mostly.

“Power Rangers, huh? Haven’t seen one of those tonight,” Dad says to the little beast as he gives it some candy. “Have a great Halloween, Bart. You too, Marcie. Sorry about Murphy, it’s his first Halloween and it makes him a little anxious.”

“Don’t worry about it, Victor,” the neighbor lady says with a laugh. “He’s just trying to protect you from the scary monsters out here.” Finally, someone gets it.

Once they leave, Dad picks me up in a big hug. “I’m telling you, Murph. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He spins me a bit and I lick his face. I love Dad, I just wish he’d be a bit more savvy. “Those kids aren’t going to hurt you or anyone else. Not after tonight.” He gives that smile that the neighbor cats give when they kill squirrels or mice. It’s a little unsettling. He rattles the near empty bowl of candy. “I have to go to the basement to make more candy. You be good while I’m gone, okay?” He kisses my head, drops the bowl on the porch, and goes down to the No-Murphy-You’re-Not-Allowed-In-Here room.

“Yeah, now you know that rattling a bowl doesn’t fill it back up. When it’s my food bowl–Oh, great. More monsters.” I’m fairly certain Dad said something about barking my head off at every monster that gets too close, and I intend to follow that order.

“God, another dog,” one of the little creeps says, as if I’m the unholy beast encroaching on the human realm. She’s just lucky I can’t break through the window. “I hate those things.”

“What are these?” another creature says picking up one of Dad’s homemade candy bars. He sniffs it and says, “There’s not even a label. And they smell weird.”

“You smell weird! You all smell weird! Get off my lawn!” I shout, finally getting rid of them.

I watch more monsters come and go. My incredible barking and fearsome presence scares them away from the house, but there are still so many more out there. Prowling and laughing and guzzling down candy. They’ve transformed the entire world into a kennel of craziness and chaos. Unearthly lights and the howls of the damned surround almost every house. Every manner of demon and beast stands on the lawns, some unmoving and waiting to strike, some flailing around in a mad boneless dance of death. And the smells. I know humans have crap noses, but can Dad really not detect all these weird scents? Sure, there’s plenty of human scents, but there’s also that weird sugary, plasticy, foresty smell like that pacifier I found at the playground. Dad wouldn’t let me keep it. Fascist.

Dad comes up from his private room with a big bowl full of those weird, shiny candy bars, pointedly not giving me any. I try to give him my report but, of course, he doesn’t listen. Sometimes I wonder if Dad really appreciates me. He says he loves me but we’ve only known each other for 50 years. Or 6 weeks. Or 8 hours and 20 days. I’m not always good with time, but I know it was recent.

Dad stops bustling around and sits next to me. “Murphy, are you feeling a little down?” He starts playing with my ears. It feels nice but I still don’t think he’s going to listen.

“Well, maybe if you fed me,” I grumble, looking at the bowl on the nightstand.

“Baby, that candy’s not for you. It’ll make you sick. It’ll make them sick, too, but that’s kind of the point.” Dad makes that cat smile. “I promise you, Murph, once all those little creeps are dead, you’ll have some dinner. Just please be a little patient and don’t scare off the trick-or-treaters.” Then he gets up to give another group of monsters my candy. I don’t get it, he said ‘dinner’ and didn’t feed me. How much sense does that even make?

The night goes on. More monsters come for candy and Dad keeps telling me that we aren’t in danger. None of them kill us and they do smell a little human or a bit familiar, so maybe he’s right. Still..

Finally, after 40 hours (or two minutes, I can’t tell) the beasts start to leave the streets. Many of the weird lights and sounds start to dwindle and the dancing nightmares start to dissolve into people’s lawns. Dad does some human magic to stop the lights and dissolve the dancer on our lawn, too.

“Come here, Murphy,” Dad calls to me from the lawn, in front of one of the rigid sentinels. “I want to show you the decorations.”

I’d really rather not, but if Dad says it’s okay, it must be okay. And if it’s not, I have to protect him. I walk slowly down the steps to the human-shaped being of white bones that Dad’s near. He lifts me up and presses my nose to the unmoving freak. I think this is where the plasticky component of the night’s smells are coming from.

“See, Murph, it’s harmless,” Dad says softly. “It won’t hurt you.”

“Well, if you say so, Dad.” I give the thing an experimental lick and it doesn’t wake up and murder us. This time. I look and its frozen smile and eyeless sockets and say, “I guess you’re right. It’s not dangerous, just creepy, unholy, and evil.”

“Good boy, Murphy,” Dad says, leaving the candy bowl on the porch and carrying me inside. “I’ll take that thing down tomorrow. Now let’s go wait for dinner.”

Once we’re inside, Dad drops me on the couch and pulls out his human talky-square thingy and starts playing with it.

“Okay, you’ve said ‘dinner’ twice now and I’m still unfed. Quality parenting, Dad, as always.”

Before I can scratch at his leg, the smells come back. And this time, I mean seriously. The plasticky, sugary, foresty smell doesn’t have anything human to dilute it this time, except for blood. And it’s everywhere.

“Dad! Put that thing down! We’re under attack!” I howl, forgetting everything about the unmoving thing on the lawn. Whatever’s out there is definitely moving and giggling and scratching at the windows. “Dad, please! These things aren’t human!”

At first, Dad doesn’t look like he’s going to listen, but then I can see him hear them, too. He drops his square and grabs a sword from the closet.

“They sure didn’t waste any time,” he mutters. “Come on, Murphy.” Together we go to the front door, which he opens to reveal countless little monsters.

“Heya, kiddos. Having a great Halloween?” Dad asks with that cat smile.

“Be better if you’d stop trying to poison us,” the one in front, the girl-one from before, snaps. She tosses one of Dad’s candy bars on the porch, but I don’t have any urge to eat it anymore. “Did you really think this would work? Rowanberry filling and iron on the inside of the foil? We saw it coming a mile away.”

“You should’ve tried the whole razor blade in the candy shtick,” another creature sneers. “That would’ve been funny and more effective. All you did was lead us to you.”

The monsters all laugh, but my brave and potentially insane Dad laughs, too.

“Then I guess they worked.”

I growl as low as I can, but the creatures don’t seem scared. They start ripping off their faces, revealing more human-like faces underneath. Then they start to grow. Their arms and legs get long and slimy. Shiny needles push out of their oozy skin and buzzing wings that glow like fire emerge from their backs. Their eyes split into clusters of long tubes that sniff the air in unmistakable hunger and the scent of sugary forests and bloody plastic grows stronger as their teeth grow sharper. Dad grabs my collar.

“We’re going to eat you, Mr. Dugan,” the ugly thing says. “and your little dog, too. And just so there’s no surprises, it’s going to hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Dad says, tugging off my collar. “But you might want to start with him.”

Finally.

I growl again and this time, the creatures back away from a sound that grinds against their souls. Seriously, I can feel them rubbing against my throat as it vibrates. I bet I can bite them out of their bodies from the front step if I try. I step off the porch as my body expands, my hunger grows, and their fear curdles.

“It can’t be,” the lead monster whispers. Her hands clench and unclench as she realizes what she’s up against. Within a second, their eyestalks are pointed upwards and the drool from my chin is over their heads. “It’s a Cu Sith! Kill it now!”

They strike with their spiky arms and bursts of sweet smelling magic, but my thick fur absorbs it all. I’ve really missed my massive front legs, they’re enough like arms that I can bend and strike with them to swat away some of the Sidhe.

From behind me, Dad says, “Murphy, speak!��

I remember my training and give a long, deep howl. The Sidhe try to flee, but it’s too late. The streets and houses fold into the ground, the stars and moon sink into the sky, and then there’s nowhere in the blackness to run to. We’re cut off from the rest of the world for the moment and the Sidhe realize that quickly enough. They brace themselves for a fight.

“Murphy, attack!” Dad shouts.

I hesitate because once I move, Dad’ll be exposed. But an order’s an order and I trust Dad. So I sink into the shadows and emerge from behind the group of Sidhe. I take a bite out of three of them at once before they realize where I am. I crunch their silvery, slimy skin with my silvery teeth, but I spit them out once they’re dead. No eating on the job.

They attack with magic bursts that fizzle in my fur, explosions of water and fire that I swallow whole, poisonous vines that I phase through, and shadowy shapes and blasts that actually hurt a bit. But I hit back with my strength and teeth and soul-grinding howls. Dad’s trained me for this ever since he adopted me and I’m going to make him proud.

Dad fights off a few Sidhe with his iron sword, but I don’t leave much for him. It’s over quickly and bloodily. I know better than to jump on him and try to play with him while I’m this big, so I sit and wait for him to come to me.

“Excellent work, Murphy,” Dad says, looking around at the dismembered and crushed fae. He points and says, “Eat.”

Oh, thank Dog! I pounce on the corpses and dig in. I’ve been waiting my whole life to try Sidhe flesh. I could smell their yumminess all the time when I lived in the forest, but they never let me eat any of their dead. Stingy, much.

Dad drags a few of them inside while I slurp down the rest before joining him in the house. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I phase through the door just as the rest of the world starts to come back from the dark. Dad reaches up to scratch behind my ears and give my snout kiss after kiss.

“You did perfectly, Murphy. I love you so much,” he says in between kisses.

I try to be gentle as I wag my tail and lick him back. “I love you, too, Dad. Thanks for dinner. Are you going to eat the rest?”

“No, I’m going to grind them up for your dinner tomorrow. But you should probably get used to normal dog food. The Sidhe can be kind of rare outside of the forest.” He holds up the collar and my heart sinks a bit.

“Do I have to, Dad?” I ask. “I like being able to talk to you. I understand things better in this body.”

“I know, sweetie. I love talking to you, too. But until you learn to change back at will, I need to make sure you won’t hurt yourself or anyone else.” Dad looks from the collar to my sad and adorable face. “But I guess there’s no harm in letting you stay big for the rest of the night. Just don’t break anything and do your business outside, okay?”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I give Dad more licks and go to the living room to flop on the floor and wait for Dad to come watch TV with me.

He drags the Sidhe to the basement and comes back talking to his device.

“Yeah, it went great. His name is Murphy and he killed like ten fae on his first mission, so I say it was a good choice. What about you? Find that portal at the playground? Uh-huh. And the real kids? Well, that’s good news. We can make our reports tomorrow and save some candy–real candy. See you then. Happy Halloween.” He flicks off the device and hoists up a large ogre bone for me to see. “Guess who’s earned a very special treat?”

That’s my favorite snack from living in the forest! I jump up and snap the bone into my jaws as Dad pats my head and plays with my ears.

Even in this body, I still don’t fully get what happened tonight. Did the Sidhe make everyone go crazy and dress up like weirdos? Or are humans just naturally weird? And what the hell’s this Christmas thing Dad’s talking about getting ready for? But some things I do understand are that Dad loves me and I’m a good boy.

And Sidhe are yummy.

#short_story #halloween #dog #candy

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