Fragile Anchors

Fragile Anchors

My dreams reminded me how fragile reality was. The thin wall that breaks whenever I awake isn’t tangible, yet feels like the realist thing in that moment. A realm inside my own mind. If these worlds exist within me, why were they so dark?

The intrusive tapping of paws on my hips demanded my full attention. A smaller than advertised chocolate lab mix reached for me. I hadn’t learned until she had stopped growing that the “mixed” part of her was a dachshund. A daughter that had long parted for college and a new life had bestowed her with the name Puddles.

“Are you done?” I asked the aging hound. Snow and white hairs sprinkled her bottom jaw and around her eyes.

Despite the distraction, the questioned remained, why were they so dark? Yet for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what had prompted the fixation.

My days were becoming more isolated. Being a father since a young age, I had found reasons not to socialize. By the time my daughter was old enough to be left on her own, I had no interest in others.

Brewing another coffee for one, I had found myself giving into the lure of loneliness. There was a veil of independence and freedom that came with it. If I had just left, nothing would hold me back.

A whimpering from the hallway next to me reminded me what kept me here. Puddles sat patiently, waiting for her morning treat.

“How about Tokyo! I feel like we can learn Japanese.” I proposed.

She tapped her paws on the floor, and with an annoyed sigh, she made her thoughts clear.

“They would have snacks in Tokyo. Think you are up for travelling?” I asked, tossing her a treat.

The snack hit her nose and dropped to the floor. Her reactions had begun to slow. The clouding in her eyes and lack of ability to find the treat directly in front of her, casted down the chance of adventuring.

“Not my best throw.” I said. With a flick of my foot, I moved the snack closer to her face.

The rest of my day was working at home. After my daughter had left, her room was prime game for a new office. She had out grown her dream of living in my basement for the rest of her life. Thoughts of an endless duo now collected dust. Our memories were just items, lost in a move and quickly forgotten. New dreams took its place. As her father, I was incredibly proud. As a human, I missed her. The silence here had a murderous intent.

After work, there wasn’t much time left for me. Sleep and repeat was my future. I was getting at the age where it was too tiring to be depressed about it.

When I dreamed, I remembered every moment. From the night before, from the week before that. The same dream, the same dark place. The long hall of my apartment was outlined by the moon light. Standing at my door, I was yelling. I didn’t know why, not completely, just screaming into the darkness. At the end of the hall was a man. No, it was something else. Why were his arms so long?

The feeling of something pulling my leg ripped me from the dream realm.

“NO!” I screamed, but the figure disappeared. At my leg was a familiar brown coat of fur. Before I could get mad at the dog, she quickly retreated into my arms. Curling her body into mine.

“He was kneeling.” The words confused both Puddles and I. The more I tried to remember why that was important, the more the memories faded, as if they were protecting themselves.

The morning was a cold. The ice that lines the door cracked and sounded the charge for my funny looking guard dog. She ran outside with a glimpse of her youth. For a couple of seconds every morning, she could move with the freedom she once had. This was all before she got stuck in her loading screen, turning in the same circle twenty times, usually doubling that if the weather wasn’t to her liking. Often to my displeasure.

“You keep this up and we will never get out of this place.” I had made the mistake of rushing her. The comment threw her off enough that she had to restart her ritual all over again.

“Kneeling?” the thought came back to me. Why did I say that? Quickly, an image of a figure impossibly tall with wide protruding ribs flashed into my mind. Its limbs long with spikes and hair growing out in sporadic patches.

Barking pushed the image away so fast I forgot to be scared. My hands shook and my spine stiffen but I couldn’t figure out why.

Puddles leaned the front of her body downwards while pushing her wagging tail into the air. With a youthful vigour I had not seen in years, she nibbled at the bottom of my pants, begging to play.

“You’re too old for this.” I said, but deep down, I missed it. The feeling of being needed.

After throwing her toy around, we went back inside, and I readied my single coffee. This time she wasn’t waiting in the hall for her treat. When I had gotten her prize, I walked into the long hall. At the end was Puddles. She stood there watching the corner where the laundry machine was, just past the living room. The hair on her shoulders had risen.

“Come and get this, or I’m going to eat it.” I said, waving her treat. As if just figuring out I was watching her, she turned and flopped her tongue out, running back to me. “If you’re cranky, it’s because you’re tired. You’re too old to be running around all morning.”

Her youth was now just a moment in the day. While I worked, she placed her tired head on my lap. Every breath was heavy.

“When I have a midlife crisis, you can pat my head.” I pushed a quick puff of air out of my nose. The truth was, I would be alone when I was her age, or worst a burden on the ones I love. There was nothing worth laughing about.

After work, I place puddles in her bed, in the living room next to the end of the hall. She slept through the whole day. It was sad to think the last of her time would be like this.

When I sat myself on the couch next to her, a realization infected my mind. I would spend the rest of my days on this couch watching videos that I quickly forgot. Distracting myself until I couldn’t even do that.

It was hard to tell when I had fallen asleep. All I could remember was voices. I watched the same show enough that they sounded familiar, almost like friends.

When I woke, the television had timed out and without its light; the room was dark. Once again, only the moon was there to outline the room. An abnormally cold chilled crept in from the end of the hall. Now and then, it reminded me why our ancestors huddled around the fire. We lost something when we traded survival for existence.

“Did you leave a window open?” I asked, puffing the same sad air from my nose.

When there was no tapping of paws or annoyed sighs, I looked over to Puddles’ bed. A layer of light frost covered the fabric. I reached over and grabbed the cushion, and felt it crackle under my grasp. It was unrealistically cold. My fingers instantly drained of blood and I dropped the oddity.

“Puddles!” I called out while standing up. A gust of wind hit my back. That’s when I remembered the end of the hall. The creature, with long spiked limbs, impossibly tall, too large to have gotten through the doorway. Turning around, I saw it there again.

Between, the creature and I, was Puddles. Standing at the same spot she was earlier that day. Hair up and ready to pounce. The creature quickly jerked its hand and slammed it against the wall. As if not knowing its own speed. Snapping of freezing wood echoed all around.

“Puddles come!” I commanded. She turned to me. With a moment of her youth, she refused. Turning back to the threat and baring her teeth. Drawing an invisible line. One side an impossible evil and on the other the person she loved.

“No! Come!” my legs shook as the creature jerked its limbs, trying to find a speed that fit this realm. Inching its body around.

Puddles still defied me. Not wanting this to happen, and yet not being able to stop it. Doomed to watch this dark thing inside my mind devour me.

“Come!” I pleaded, while reaching my hand towards her.

When the creature turned fully to reveal it’s boney and torn body, it charged towards Puddles. With no concern for myself, I leaped for the tiny guardian. She turned around and jumped towards me. Opening her mouth wide and clamping it down as hard as her old muscles would allow. She bit into my arm. With the surge of pain, I awoke.

“Puddles!” I screamed out. A cold sweat dripped from my face.

When I tried to remember why I was so scared, the thoughts faded. It didn’t feel innocent anymore. The thoughts weren’t being forgotten; they were hiding.

“Puddles.” I called out calmly, trying not to scare the dog.

The morning sun was creeping in from the windows. Wind brushed fresh snow from the top of the roofs. It looked light diamond dust raining down onto a field of clouds. Memories of making snowmen and sliding with my daughter and the tiny awkward dog flooded my mind. So real I could taste the homemade hot coco.

When I looked over at her bed, I could see her bed was empty. My stomach sunk and the back of my neck tensed. I knew where she was. I just didn’t know why. When I turned around, what I saw validated my concerns. My anchor, the little brown ball of fur, laid at the end of the hall. Her coat was different. As I approached, it didn’t look real, more like a doll, fake and wrong.

“I’m sorry.” it was just something we said. But I meant it. This felt like my fault. The tears that fell from me dropped on to her cold, stiff body.

Why was this my fault?

When I reached for her, I realized how much my arm had hurt. In the night she had bitten me. Blood soaked the side of my shirt.

After I washed up, I bandaged the wound. It was only enough to break the skin and the bleeding was light. The pain was just a fleeting thought. My heart was broken, and it was the only thing I could focus on.

Standing in my kitchen, I readied to drink my coffee, truly alone this time. When I put the beans in the cabinet, an invisible fist punched me in the gut when I realized I had instinctively grabbed her treat. Putting it back, I thought about her arrangements. The blunt echoing pain of letting a loved one go.

I never wanted my loved ones to worry about my empty corpse. Just wanted my ashes placed somewhere pleasant. She deserved the same treatment. For now, all she got was a bag in the deepfreeze.

It was half ways through my work day before I even remembered to call in. I told myself I should just leave, but I knew I would be back in the same prison I had created for myself tomorrow. This was a life sentence.

Holding the phone, I shook at the thought of calling my daughter. She had just finished her midterms and would be celebrating. My news would just drag her down.

I felt guilty when a wave of relief washed over me. Hearing her voicemail made this a little easier.

“Hey, Love. Puddles passed away last night. Looks like it was just old age. I’m fine. Been keeping busy. Hope you are doing good, I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

When I hung up, all I wanted was sleep.

No matter how much I turned up the heat or how many blankets I put on, I still felt cold. But when I closed my eyes, I felt less alone.