by Willow Rose
“Now, he’s doing it again,” she said with terror in her voice. “Occasionally, he bangs his head against the bars like he’s trying to get out. I really don’t like that dog. It’s very rare, since I love most animals, but this one I simply don’t know how to handle.”
“But he lets Victor pet him,” I said.
“That’s…that’s the first time he ever let anyone touch him,” Camilla said. “I’ve never seen him quite like this before. It’s very unusual; normally, he never lets anyone touch him…just looking into his eyes usually makes him angry.”
Exactly like Victor.
I turned to look at Maya, who was playing with Kenneth, throwing a small rubber bone across the room and having him fetch it for her. She was laughing and kissing the small dog. His ears flapped when he ran.
This is not good.
“I want this one,” Victor said, still staring inside the cage and petting the dog. It was now licking his hand and calming down from his touch.
I sighed deeply. There was only one solution to this, and I was certain I was going to regret it.
“We’ll take them both.”
10
November 2014
THE NUMEROLOGIST HAD JUST gotten back from her session with Maya. She threw her bag on the chair, then walked to the kitchen and grabbed a packet of crackers. She was tired. Tired of having to pretend like she liked that family and that awful person Emma Frost. Today, she had been close to just grabbing a kitchen knife and stabbing the terrible woman with it. Just finishing it then and there. The idiot had taken both of the children to the shelter and had come back with not one, but TWO dogs. The house was a mess and a zoo. The dogs were running all over the place, barking at each other, and fighting. Well, it was mostly the small black one that had been feisty, while the big grey one had been quieter, and simply sat in a corner staring at the numerologist and Maya like it was carefully planning how to attack them and eat them afterwards. The numerologist didn’t known which was worse…the small dog constantly barking or the big quiet one staring at her with hungry eyes. Emma Frost had told her that she couldn’t say no to either of them, and she had preferred the small black one, but Victor really had his eye on the big one, so she had taken them both.
The numerologist had felt like yelling at her, telling her how STUPID that was. How insane it was with two troubled children in the house. But she knew Emma Frost would never listen. She was simply too irresponsible.
The numerologist was happy to be home and put the laptop on her desk and opened it. Misty crawled across the table while the numerologist pulled out a cracker. Crumbs fell to the desk next to her laptop. Misty picked them up and ate them. The numerologist broke a cracker in two and handed one piece to the rat. It nibbled the cracker with great delight.
“There you go, sweetie.”
The numerologist looked in her book and flipped a couple of pages. Things were going really well for her lately. Getting close to Emma Frost had been easy, and she had gathered a lot of material. Enough for her to take this to the next level. Yes, she had waited long enough. She wanted to move carefully, though. She wanted it all to happen in just the right way.
She flipped yet another page and drank from her water bottle. The stars were aligned just perfectly for her little plan to be fulfilled at this time. All predictions worked in her favor.
“See, Misty. All the books say the same thing,” she mumbled, and stared into the computer screen.
It was true. 2014 was a special year. It was ruled by the number seven, since if you added all the numbers you got seven, making it a Universal Year.
The numerologist spoke while creating the web-page, sounding like she was trying to explain everything to her rat.
“The number seven is analytical and self-examining. It starts a turnaround as, even the mind, as cold as it is, recognizes that duality doesn't benefit anyone.”
She looked at the pyramid she had drawn on a piece of paper. A pyramid of numbers with the year and seven in the center. There was no doubt about what this pyramid was telling her. The five in the upper right side spoke very clearly. The five represented a big change or shocking and unexpected event around November of 2014, and if she looked it up, the stars would tell her it was caused in large part by miscommunication. The numerologist knew exactly what this miscommunication would be.
She ate another cracker and tapped on the keyboard. A picture of Emma Frost was found online, one where she was smirking during a book signing, then a small video from a TV show she was on once, talking about her books, where she laughed out loud. She edited it so it kept repeating her laughing, making her sound menacing. It was all placed on the page, and then accompanied by the text that the numerologist had carefully prepared.
“Yes, Misty. This is how it all starts. See, killing her for what she did is much too merciful, in my opinion. I want her to go down. I want her to hit the ground so hard she’ll never get back up again. And then, we strike.”
11
November 2014
OKAY, SO MAYBE I hadn’t thought it through properly. Having one dog was a lot of work, but two dogs that were both new to the place was quite complicated, I soon realized. To my surprise, it wasn’t the big one, Brutus, who caused me the most trouble. No, it was the small and gentle Kenneth that drove me nuts with all his barking and running around the house biting everything. He hadn’t been in the house for more than ten minutes before he peed on the floor for the first time. In the living room. On the carpet. While I was cleaning it up, Maya came running and told me he had peed in the kitchen, and soon after, I stepped in a small puddle in the hallway as well. Frustrated and growling, I cleaned up again and again until I found one of my favorite shoes chewed into a thousand pieces in the bathroom.
“Maya!” I yelled.
She stuck her head inside the bathroom. “I think you should take him outside for a little bit. Take him out in the yard.”
“But Victor is out there with Brutus right now,” Maya said.
“They’re dogs, for crying out loud. Can’t they just play together?” I asked.
“I’m not sure the two of them should be playing together. Brutus could eat Kenneth in one bite without even chewing. And I think he wants to. That dog has been staring at Kenneth ever since we left that house like he really wants to taste him.”
I exhaled. “Get a leash on him and take him for a walk down the street or on the beach. Just get him out of this house while I clean up after him.”
“Okay,” Maya said. She was about to leave, then stopped herself. “By the way, he pooped in the kitchen.”
“Aaaargh! I thought he was supposed to be potty-trained!” I yelled, but Maya had left. I heard the front door slam, and suddenly the house was quiet for the first time since we got back from the shelter.
What have I done?
I finished cleaning up in the bathroom, then walked into the living room and looked at the damages. A pillow from the couch was shredded to pieces, Kenneth had left another puddle on the carpet, and tipped over my cup of coffee from this morning that I had left on the table.
I suddenly felt so incredibly tired. I sat down on the couch, thinking there was no way I was going to survive having these creatures in my house, when suddenly I heard a sound coming from the yard. I got up and walked to the window. Outside, between the trees, I spotted Victor and Brutus. What were they doing? Victor was sitting in front of Brutus, face to face, making it look like they were deep in conversation. I chuckled. Victor seemed so happy. I could hear him chatting with the dog. It was good for him to have something living to talk to for once. Usually, it was the trees and the rocks he spoke to, so this was, by far, an improvement, I had to admit. I didn’t like the dog much still, especially not after Camilla had told me that they would take no responsibility if the dog were to hurt Victor or anyone else in the family. She really didn’t recommend us taking the dog. She still wanted it to be put down.
Then, Victor stood up. He started walking around
among the trees, and Brutus followed him. It looked like he was presenting Brutus to each and every tree in the yard. The strange part was how Brutus seemed to understand every word Victor spoke. Nah, that couldn’t be. Maybe it just looked that way. Probably it was just an illusion, but the two of them definitely had created a bond…and very fast indeed. That was a good sign. I turned away and started cleaning the puddle and the coffee stains, and just as I had managed to put the living room back to normal, the front door opened and Maya yelled, “We’re back!”
I took in a deep breath and braced myself for yet another couple of hours of complete chaos, as Kenneth’s barking drowned out every thought in my mind. Seconds later, he whirled through the living room and started biting the edge of the couch, while growling at it like it had tried to attack him first.
12
November 2014
ANNIE HOLMGREN WAS IN a hurry, as usual, as she drove the car off of the ferry onto Fanoe Island. She was a journalist at newspaper JydskeVestkysten, her office situated in Esbjerg with a view of The Wadden Sea with Fanoe peeking up in the horizon. She was happy to be one of those who had escaped the island. Growing up there was more than enough. She had known all of her life that she wanted to leave as soon as she was old enough. She wanted to have a career and make it big. So, she had…going to journalism school in Aarhus, the second biggest city in the country, then off to the biggest city, Copenhagen, for an internship at one of the big national newspapers and later hired as a reporter there. Having a career had been easy for Annie, easier than for her husband. She had met Bjorn at the newspaper where he worked as a photographer; they had worked on many stories together, and even traveled together. But soon after their wedding, and while their first child was on its way, Bjorn had been fired. Cutbacks, they said. He had started his own freelance company, but hadn’t had many assignments. Once their first child, Maria, came along, Bjorn had been a stay at home dad and Annie had cut her maternity leave in half so she could get back to her career. Bjorn had discovered that he liked it. He enjoyed being at home with their child. In fact, he had ended up taking care of all three children and the household while Annie focused on her career. Much to their surprise, they had both ended up liking their arrangement, him taking care of everything at home and her making the money. Yes, it was hard when they went to dinner parties and people asked him what he did for a living. It was tough on his ego. Especially in the eyes of his father-in-law. Annie’s dad had never understood his choice. A man without a career, a man who didn’t make money was hardly a man at all, he believed. And he never hesitated to tell Bjorn. It irritated Annie immensely, and over the years, she had visited her parents less and less. In the end, they only saw each other for Christmas.
When Annie’s mother Elsebeth was diagnosed with cancer, everything had changed. Annie had realized her parents weren’t going to be around forever, and she had quit her job at the newspaper and taken a job closer to the island at a smaller paper located in Esbjerg to be able to visit more often. She had helped out the best she could, since her father was old and not in the best health either. He was almost fifteen years older than her mother, and it was, therefore, the biggest surprise that she ended up dying before him. Annie had never had a close relationship with her father; she didn’t know much about him except that he was born on Fanoe Island, had grown up on a farm outside of Nordby with his brother Peter, and had lived on the island all of his life. Ever since her mother died, she had tried hard to make up for the fact that she hardly knew him, but somehow, it felt like it was too late. Her father had been away most of her childhood, since he traveled a lot for his job. He had started his own company. Annie didn’t know much about it except they sold machines to farmers all over Europe. She guessed it was tractors and such. Her dad never talked much with her or shared anything in detail. He had, however, been very disappointed in the fact that she was a girl, since he believed only a boy could take over the business. But when Annie’s mother hadn’t been able to provide another child after Annie, and when Annie had refused to take over the business that had kept her father away from her all of her childhood, her dad had, in bitterness, realized his company would die with him.
Annie hadn’t wanted to go see him today; it hadn’t been her plan, but she felt like she had to. She had plenty to do today and had to be in Vejle to do an interview in a few hours, but since they had called from the city and told her that her dad hadn’t answered the door for days, and that it had been locked when the nurses tried to get inside, she felt she had to go and check on him. It wasn’t that unusual. They had been through it before when her dad had refused to let the nurses in for up to a week at a time. It had happened several times before, Annie had said to the nice woman who had called, but still something inside of her felt stirred and uneasy. She knew she needed to quiet the anxiety she felt inside of her. So, she had pushed the interview back a little and hurried to catch the ferry.
Annie rushed through Nordby and drove up the hill onto the street of her childhood. She felt a chill as she parked the car in the driveway and got out. She looked across the street to number seventeen where Martin had lived. The handsome Martin that she had had a crush on for several years in school. She had heard he sold refrigerators now downtown. Annie shook her head. So glad she didn’t end up marrying the guy. So happy she was one of those that got away. Staying here would have made her lose her mind. No doubt about it.
“Dad?” she yelled, as she knocked on the door.
There was no reply. The sign saying Ulrik Larsen on the door had fallen down on one side. A lot was falling apart on the house lately.
“Dad? It’s Annie! Open up!”
Still, no answer. Annie sighed and found her own key to the house, then opened the door. Newspapers and letters coming through the mail slot had formed a pile behind the door and made it hard to push open.
This is a bad sign, Annie thought to herself. If anything, her dad always made sure to get the mail. He was a decent man who opened his mail and read the paper every single day.
Had he gotten hurt somehow? Has he fallen somewhere and can’t get up? Oh my, is he in trouble?
“Daaad?”
No answer. She tried again. A revolting odor hit her. What the hell was that? What could smell like that? Had the freezer stopped working? Had there been a blackout and the meat had started to rot? Had he forgotten to change the cat’s litter box? Where was the old cat anyway?
“Dad, where are you?”
Annie kept walking through the hallway towards the living room where her dad was usually sitting on the couch when she arrived. The same couch he usually refused to leave. The couch he would sleep on if the nurses let him. But this time, it was empty.
“Dad? Basse?”
That’s odd. He never leaves the couch unless he has to.
A nervous feeling spread inside of her. No, there had to be some explanation. Ulrik Larsen was a very strong man. He hadn’t been sick in twenty years. Maybe he was simply still sleeping? It was, after all, still morning. But how would he have gotten into bed if the nurses hadn’t been in to help him?
“Where are you, Dad? Are you in the bathroom?”
A fly landed on her forehead. Annie wiped it away. Another one buzzed her face. Soon three, then four.
Flies? At this time of year?
She had walked back into the hallway towards the bedroom when she heard a strange sound coming from the kitchen. A buzzing sound.
The sound of a thousand flies. Oh, my God!
Part of her was screaming to get out of there as soon as possible, but she felt like she was frozen. Like she was paralyzed. She was drawn towards it. She had to know. As she peeked inside the kitchen, holding her scarf up against her nose and mouth, her eyes started watering. Not because of the horrendous odor, but because of what she saw. Her own dad lying on the tile floor in a pool of blood. Flies were buzzing around him and his old cat, Basse, was gnawing on his face.
13
March 1959
ULRIK AND PETER WORKED at old Hansen’s farm all weekend, and the following Saturday their dad asked them to go down there again. Ulrik and Peter did as they were told without asking any questions. Old Hansen was happy to see them and immediately asked them to feed the horse and the dogs and clean up outside the main building.
“I’ll take the horse, you feed the dogs,” Ulrik said to his younger brother.
It was a nice spring day with clear skies and crisp air. Ulrik enjoyed being outside. He took the horse out in the paddock. The horse jumped and ran off while Ulrik closed the fence. Then he cleaned out the horse’s stall and gave it fresh straw and hay. He poured food in the trough, and then returned to see if his brother needed help with the dogs. Peter was playing with the big labs in the farmyard. He had found a ball that he was throwing and the three labs ran to get it. Peter was laughing when they ran back to him and jumped on him. Then he grabbed the ball out of the mouth of one dog and threw it again. The three dogs all ran for it. Peter laughed. Ulrik smiled at the sight of his brother enjoying himself. There weren’t many times either of them got to play or be childish anymore. Ulrik had watched his brother for a little while, when he realized he wasn’t the only one watching him. On the stairs outside the house stood Mr. Hansen. He was leaning on his cane while staring at Peter. He was smiling too. There was something about the way he looked at Peter that made Ulrik feel uncomfortable.
Ulrik walked into the courtyard and yelled at his brother. “Enough fooling around. Come help me carry these big tires over here into the barn.”
Peter left the dogs and ran to help his brother. They carried the tires inside the barn, and then walked back to clean up the pile of old garbage. All the while, Ulrik couldn’t escape the feeling that old Hansen was observing them, monitoring their every move.
