Great, I thought, I’ll be the single dad with the violent child. As soon as the thought popped into my mind I got angry with myself. Who cares what they think? I need to go see if my daughter is all right!
I informed my boss of the phone call and he nodded me out the door. I thanked him and told him I’d make it up on Monday before bolting for my car.
As I drove, I tried to make sense as to the possible reasons why Heather would act out like this. She wouldn’t just do it! One of the kids must have been picking on her. One of them must have provoked her. She wouldn’t just start biting kids.
I sat at a red light, anxiously drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. Something was going on with my daughter and I needed to get to the bottom of it. First the nightmares and now this. Clearly, Heather was going through something and as a responsible parent, I needed to find out what it was. I gritted my teeth as the light turned green and I gunned the engine. I wondered if it had something to do with my wife. I wondered if this was Heather’s way of coming to terms with her death a year later. I felt my eyes suddenly well up and my knuckles turned white.
It wasn’t fair that she had been taken away from us. What had we done to deserve such sadness? What was going through Heather’s young mind in the absence of her mother? What could I do to fill that sorrow?
And then I started to panic, the creeping thoughts of Heather’s upcoming teenage years. What if this was the end of our good relationship? What if she started blaming me for her mom’s death? I knew she was only five, but time has a way of preserving deep hurt and forming scars that never heal. I realized just how much I needed to be there for my daughter in these early years, these crucial developmental times. How I acted could make or break the way she viewed…everything.
As these thoughts scrambled my mind, I pulled into the school parking lot and was slammed with a realization that chilled me to the bone.
I remembered the message board warning: The Tall Dog is attracted to deep sadness.
I shook my head. No, don’t start going down that road. That’s insane and there’s no such thing. She’s forming waking nightmares in order to deal with what she’s going through.
Steeling myself, I ran into the school.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the principal’s office listening to him apologize for making such a big deal out of this and that it was more for the other kids than for Heather. I barely heard him, nodding as his words washed over me in waves of numb noise.
Finally, a teacher led Heather into the room and I scooped her up in a big hug. I kissed her on the cheek and saw that she had been crying. I told her I loved her and that we were going to go home. She nodded silently at me, her big brown eyes filling with tears.
I told the teacher and principal that I was sorry for the incident and assured them it wouldn’t happen again. They both smiled and thanked me, but I saw something else behind their masks of public decency. Judgment. They saw me as a single father with no idea how to raise a little girl. They saw a struggling man with no answers. They saw someone who had lost his wife and was still finding a way to live without her.
I suddenly got angry, a spike of adrenaline coursing through my veins, but I kept my mouth shut. I turned and left, hugging my daughter to me as I stormed out of the school. I didn’t know if it was righteous anger or embarrassment, and I didn’t care. They had no idea what I had gone through, what I was dealing with. Who were they to judge me?
I put Heather in the car and drove us home in silence. I fought to get myself under control. I reminded myself that this wasn’t about me, it was about my daughter. She was the one who needed help; she was the one who needed loving support.
We eventually arrived home and I checked my watch. It was almost four. I abandoned the idea of going to the park and instead sat Heather down on the couch. I placed myself next to her and told her I needed to talk to her about what had happened at school.
“Sweetie, are you doing OK?” I asked gently, gauging her mental state.
She looked at her hands and nodded.
I cleared my throat. I was always so bad at this.
“Is it true you bit those kids today?”
I saw her lip quiver and she slowly nodded without looking up at me.
I sighed, “Honey, you can’t bite, you know that, right? Why did you bite those kids?”
She shrugged again and I saw a tear roll down her cheek.
Be brave, I told myself, you can’t back out now.
“Were you mad at them? Did someone say something mean to you?”
She put one hand in her pocket and slowly shook her head, eyes still downcast.
“Heather, can you look at me?” I asked softly.
She turned her eyes to mine and I saw she was crying openly now. She kept fidgeting in her pocket.
“Can you promise me you won’t do it again?” I asked.
More tears ran down her cheeks and she cried, “I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m really sorry!”
I leaned down and kissed her on the head, “It’s OK, honey, I know you’re a good girl. Daddy loves you. Just please don’t bite anyone again, OK?”
She sniffled back another outburst of tears and her hand kept twisting in her pocket.
I finally noticed and patted her leg. “What’s in your pocket, Heather? You have something you want to show me?”
She suddenly looked embarrassed and shook her head, but I prodded her and after some coaching she finally pulled out a handful of brown nuggets.
I blinked, wondering why my daughter was carrying around a pocketful of dirt and then my heart slammed so hard against my ribcage I thought it would break.
“Sweetie,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control, “is…is that dog food?”
She balled her fist up and hugged the nuggets to her chest, staring at her feet that dangled from the edge of the couch.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, feeling a deep disturbance roll over me.
“I found them,” she answered quietly.
“And…and what are you doing with them in your pocket?” I asked, a flurry of nerves fluttering in my chest.
Heather looked up at me. “They taste good.”
I forced myself to breathe and held out my hand. “Why don’t you let me hang on to those and I’ll make us an early dinner, OK?”
Reluctantly, she handed over the nuggets and I plastered a smile to my face. I asked her if she wanted to watch some TV while I made dinner. She offered me a small grin and nodded sheepishly.
As I turned on her shows, I fought with the voice screaming in my head. Something was going on here. Something really, really awful was happening to my daughter. I didn’t know what exactly, but the past couple days seemed to mark a turning point in her behavior.
I stated preparing dinner, begging myself to stop overreacting, but I couldn’t shut it out. The nightmares, the Tall Dog nonsense, the biting, and now she was eating dog food? I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say to her. I wanted to ask her about her mom, ask her if she had been thinking about her recently, but I was afraid to. I didn’t want to open up a wound I couldn’t close. What if she started asking questions I couldn’t answer? What if her behavior got worse?
I began to wonder if I needed to take her to see a therapist. As the thought entered my mind, I violently slammed the door on it. There was nothing wrong with my daughter, she was just a vibrant little girl who had a few nightmares and bit a couple kids! So what? When I was her age, I’m sure I did things much worse and I turned out fine!
Yes but…what is the Tall Dog? What does that mean?
I shouted internally at myself to stop thinking about it. There was no such thing and I needed to face the problems I could handle.
I finished making dinner in mental agony and prepared two plates. I went to the couch and sat with Heather, both of us eating in silence as cartoon images danced on the screen.
When I woke up the Tall Dog was whispering in my ear…
&n
bsp; I gritted my teeth around my food. I wasn’t thinking about this bullshit anymore.
I crawled into bed, mentally exhausted. It had taken me forever to get Heather to sleep. She had begged to sleep in my bed, but I told her no and I’d keep my door open in case she woke up scared. I didn’t want her to start forming bad habits.
I rested my head against my pillow and stared out into the dark hallway from the crack in my door. I shut my eyes and said a silent prayer that Heather would sleep through the night. Maybe then all this would be over and she would go back to being the little angel I knew she was. I didn’t want to continue down this road of parental speculation and assuming that every little bad action was a foretelling of a bleak future for her.
I let out a long breath and waited for the gentle arms of sleep to rock me into the world of dreams. It didn’t take long.
My eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wide. I was soaked in sweat, the horrific nightmare still clinging to my brain with razor-sharp claws. I rolled onto my back and wiped sweat from my face. I swallowed hard and waited for reality to clear away the cobwebs of slumber. My heart was racing and I put a hand over my bare chest, willing it to slow.
My wife. I had been dreaming about my wife. She had been in a hospital bed, screaming my name and clutching her head. I had been beside her, crying, begging her to tell me what was wrong, but she just kept screaming. I began to scream for a doctor and that’s when I realized all the lights in the hospital were off and no one was in the halls. I kept screaming for help, pleading with my wife, until I finally heard a noise.
From the blackness of the hall, a doctor in a bloody lab coat came crawling into the room on all fours. His eyes were wild and he started barking at me, his mouth foaming. I backed away from him, shock and terror rising in me like a dark mountain.
The doctor lunged at me, teeth bared, and that’s when I woke up.
I pulled my hands across my face, forcing the images from my head. What a horrible nightmare. I realized my stressed mind was probably mixing all my current worries into a terrifying nighttime cocktail, sneaking up on me and pouring it down my throat while I slept.
I looked over at the clock. Three AM. I snorted, eyes wide, grateful that at least it was me instead of Heather who had woken up tonight. If I could take her fears from her, I gladly would. I just needed to be careful I didn’t end up burning myself out.
As I rolled on my side to face my door, I heard something from downstairs.
Immediately, my mind exploded into alertness, the nightmare fear still fresh on my breath. I lay in silence, ear cocked and listening, my heart racing.
There.
It sounded like something was…walking around.
Get up, you have to get up, I thought, fear tingling my stomach. It’s probably nothing, it’s probably the house settling. Maybe Heather got up for some reason or is sleepwalking.
I pulled the covers off me and swung my feet over the side of the bed. I jumped as I heard more movement.
What is going on…?
Tense and terrifyingly nervous, I crept to the door. I paused, staring out into the empty hallway. I didn’t hear anything.
I slowly opened the door and went out into the hallway.
Something was making noise at the bottom of the stairs. I balled my sweaty hands into fists and steeled myself. The house was impossibly dark, every corner filled with grinning black. The floor underneath my feet creaked as I slowly edged myself over to the top of the stairs.
I looked down.
And something was looking back up at me.
I stifled a scream, terror clenching my throat like an iron grip. My eyes bulged and my breath rushed from my lungs in a wave of cold fear.
It was long and slender, its hairless body a sickly gray color. It looked like a dog, but it was greater in length and bone-thin. Its snout pointed up at me from the foot of the stairs, easily two feet in length. Its eyes were completely white and swollen in their sockets like bloated marshmallows. It was on all fours, its front two legs resting on the first two steps.
As it gazed up at me, it began to pull itself upright. My knees turned to liquid and I watched in absolute horror as it rose to stand on two legs, its head towering toward the ceiling. Its neck was long—too long for a dog—and it snarled at me, its mouth full of black, needle-like teeth.
It started slowly walking up the stairs toward me.
I backed away in frantic desperation, unable to comprehend what I was looking at. I tripped over my own feet and fell, not able to tear my eyes away from the advancing monstrosity. As it neared the top of the stairs, it crouched back down on all fours and I saw its swollen white eyes pulsing with excitement.
I tried to scream but found that I didn’t have the breath. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen and every alarm in my head was blaring with furious urgency. I scooted backward with my hands into the safety of my room and stood, grabbing the door and slamming it shut in one violent gesture.
I stood with my back against the wood, sucking in hungry lungfuls of air. What the hell was that thing?! What was it doing in my house?! Where had it come from!?
Heather.
Oh, no…
I pressed my ear to the door and heard footsteps pad down the hallway toward Heather’s room. I scrambled in the dark for some kind of weapon. I grabbed my discarded work pants that were lying in a pile on the floor and slid the belt from the loops. I wrapped it around my knuckles, turning the buckle outwards.
I went to the closed door and took a deep breath. I couldn’t let that thing hurt my daughter. I opened the door and stepped out into the dark hall. My eyes scanned my surroundings but I didn’t see it. I knew it had to be in Heather’s room.
I cautiously crept down the hall, ears trained to pick up any sound of the creature. Heather’s door was wide open and faint pink light drifted out from the inside.
I entered her room and froze. The monster, the Tall Dog, was on all fours by Heather’s bed. Its snout was inches from her ear and its mouth moved rapidly, but I couldn’t hear any noise. It was like it was speaking directly into her dreams. Heather’s eyes were shut but she had begun to stir, soft cries escaping her lips as the Tall Dog silently filled her mind.
Suddenly, it realized I was in the room and whipped its head around. Its eyes seemed to vibrate in their sockets, thick white pus leaking from the gelatinous, milky scleras. It silently bared its teeth at me, its mouth filling with sharp, ebony darkness.
I took a step back, feeling my throat tighten, and gripped the belt harder in my hand. I needed to get it away from Heather. My heart was seizing in my chest and my back was coated in a cold layer of sweat. I forced my knees to lock and I licked my dry lips.
The Tall Dog turned away from the bed and rose up up on two legs, towering over me. Despite its appearance, it didn’t move like an animal. Its balance was perfect and its legs and muscles twisted and flowed with the confidence of a human.
“What do you want?!” I whispered, holding my ground as a trickle of sweat slid down my face.
It leaped at me.
I screamed, raising my hands to protect my face as its long body crashed into mine. I fell to the floor, its sinewy flesh pressing mine to the wood. Its breath was hot on my face and stars exploded across my vision, my head bouncing on the ground. With the energy battered out of me, I blinked back darkness and scrambled desperately, trying to get it off of me.
It pinned me where I lay, its powerful legs digging into my sides. I looked up into its hideous face and the white ooze pouring from its eyes dripped into my hair.
It leaned down and opened its mouth, its jaws parting to reveal rows and rows of black teeth. I watched in horror as its throat began to open, folds of dark flesh parting like oil and water.
And then I heard my daughter screaming from deep down inside.
“Daddy, help me, please! Don’t let it take me! Daddy please!!!”
Heather’s voice was shrill with panic and it sent waves of chilling
terror through my body. No, this wasn’t happening, that wasn’t my daughter, it couldn’t be! Please, God, NO!
The Tall Dog snapped its jaws shut and I shoved it off of me, a surge of energy igniting my muscles. It skittered on all fours toward the open door and I scrambled to stand, breathing heavily.
“What did you do to her!?” I screamed, shaking in fear and fury. “What have you done to my daughter!?”
The Tall Dog crouched and eyed me, sniffing the air. I waited for it to strike, waited for it to move. This creature was going to kill me, I knew that, but I was ready. I stood my ground in the dim light, trembling, accepting whatever happened next.
Instead of charging me, though, it turned away and sprinted down the hall. In shock, I listened to it crash down the stairs and onto the ground floor. More footsteps followed then faded and I realized that it was gone, leaving me shaking in horror.
I turned to Heather who lay motionless on the bed. I threw the belt onto the floor and went to her side, prayers flowing from my lips. Tears leaked down my cheeks as I grabbed Heather and lifted her head to rest on my lap. Her eyes were closed and her body was still.
“Please, God, I’m begging you, no, no, no!” I cried, my mind collapsing. “Heather, baby, my angel, wake up, Daddy’s here, please, sweetie, wake up!”
I shook her, pleading, drool and mucus bubbling from my face as reality tore my exhausted brain in two.
Suddenly, her eyes flickered and then she opened them. She stared up at me, blinking rapidly as if she wasn’t sure where she was. I let out a cry of raw relief and hugged her tight against me, more tears pouring from eyes. I sobbed, rocking back and forth on the bed, clutching her to my chest. I thought I had lost her, I thought she had been taken away from me.
And then Heather began to bark.
My bloodshot eyes widened and I pulled her away to look at her face. Her eyes roamed around the room curiously and her tongue lolled from the side of her mouth. Drool leaked from her lips as she sat on my lap, panting. She finally looked up at me and let out a series of yaps, all signs of humanity draining from her eyes.
The Worst Kind of Monsters Page 2
