In Loving Memory

“Where are you?”

I was growing more frantic with every passing minute.

The sun was getting closer to the horizon and this wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be alone at night…

“Please, come here!”

It was dark now, and cold. No longer was the fading sun filtering through the trees.

I felt swallowed by the darkness.

Hearing only the crunch of fallen leaves and twigs under my boots, I kept walking, sweeping my flashlight back and forth through the trees surrounding the trail.

“George, where are you?!”

It’s been four hours now since George, my six-year-old Coonhound, escaped from his leash and took off after a scent, which has left me scouring and searching for him on an unfamiliar trail, long after the people have left and the sun has gone down.

It’s not the dark that’s making me uncomfortable, nor the cold, given that I’ve never been the type to be ill-prepared; it’s the way I’m feeling…this unnatural sensation that I’m being watched.

Only there’s no one around.

The further I go on this trail and into these woods looking for George, the tenser my body becomes, and I have a constant, prickly feeling on the back of my neck that keeps making me shudder.

I know it’s not the wind.

I keep checking every so often, looking to see if there’s anyone behind me, but there’s only stifling silence and a dark, empty trail.

My head snaps to the left after hearing what sounds like a distant, fearful whimper.

“George, is that you?” I shout.

I start running off the trail towards that direction, ignoring the branches that are grabbing at my clothes and scratching my face.

Off in the distance I spot two small glowing eyes bouncing off the reflection from my flashlight, and I start running faster.

“George! George! I’m com–” I start to say as I feel two small hands on my lower back push me to the ground.

I gasp and land on the dirt with a hard thud, pain shooting through my left shoulder where I made contact with a tree stump. I scramble to grab the flashlight that flew out of my hands and shine it erratically every which way of me…but still, I am alone. I can see no one…but there is someone else here with me; I’m sure of it.

Breathing short and fast, I shake it off and start to run in the same direction…the eyes are getting closer.

“George!”

As I approach I can see my boy cowering under a natural dirt wall in the earth. He looks uncertain, scared almost, then starts to come out towards me.

I take his furry head between my hands and smother him with hugs and kisses, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

As I hug his chilled, tired body, I notice a small wound on his back.

I reach into my backpack for a water bottle and first aid kit. I set some water in a bowl in front of him, and open my kit to take out some gauze and an eyedropper.

I squeeze water up the glass tube and flush the dirt out from his wound before wrapping the bandage around his midsection.

I put everything back in my bag and kiss the top of his head.

“There Georgie, all better now.”

It’s then I notice that he’s not looking at me…he’s been staring beside me the whole time.

Cautiously, I follow his gaze.

And then I scream.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and goose bumps form all over my body. I feel like I’ve turned to stone: too scared to move, too scared to speak.

In front of us stands a little girl with long, dark hair in a pale yellow sundress. Her features are soft, but she doesn’t look sweet. She looks menacing.

And I can see right through her.

But it’s her eyes…her wide, icy, lifeless eyes that terrify me more than the fact that I know I am looking at an apparition.

She does nothing but stare. She doesn’t move towards us, she doesn’t so much as blink. Just stares.

I feel George’s leash in my hand grow tighter as he starts to retreat back into his hideout.

Get the hell out of here, I tell myself as I force my body to become usable again.

I immediately start to run, racing back towards the hiking trail while pulling George along with me, not for one second looking back.

And I don’t stop running until we’re home.

Where I still don’t feel safe.

At some point I manage to drift off into a deep sleep.

I’m back on the trail, walking George. I’m passing fellow dog walkers, people riding their bikes, and families on a hike. Everything looks normal.

Only it’s not normal…something’s different – and I feel afraid when I realize what it is. These people don’t have faces…they’re just blank.

Suddenly I’m near the edge of the trail’s cliff, overlooking the gorge down far below. I realize I’m sitting on a bench, one that I passed during my walk today just before George took off.

I turn my body to read the plaque on the wooden plank…

In Loving Memory of Anna Howler

1949 – 1955

Though this view was your last,

You shall not remain in the past.

Forever in our hearts,

We shall never be apart.

I’m standing now, right on the edge of the cliff. My right hand has an icy sensation…there is someone holding it.

I turn to look.

It’s her, Anna, the little girl who I saw in translucent form earlier tonight.

She looks back at me…and I see those lifeless, hollow eyes again. Although she is alive in my dream, her eyes are still very much dead.

And I am still very much afraid.

With the slightest curl of her lips, she turns back to the gorge.

She drops my hand. And she jumps.

And I jump with her.