It's a Hound's Life

She was fuming by now. Three years she’d put up with this shit, three long years. The only sounds in her bedroom that night came from the shuffling of her feet across the carpet, going back and forth. Garm was laying on the floor, head between his paws, following her every step with his bright eyes. Every now and then his ears would shoot up, and she would stop and listen intently. When his ears relaxed again, she’d continue her wandering.

“Show yourself!” she yelled to the dim-lit room. You piece of shit, she added in the safety of her mind.

Garm only watched, he knew very well she wasn’t talking to him.

Right before midnight she felt a breeze in the room, the same, she was certain, she’d felt three years before. Besides, the window wasn’t open. It could only mean one thing.

“Where are you?” she asked the room in general.

A shadow detached itself from the rest and stepped to the centre of her bedroom. The tall figure was shrouded in a black cloak and had a large hood drooping over his skeletal head. His eyes were lit by two small bright points, like stars in space, millions of miles away. The first time she had seen the figure, she’d been stricken by the larger than life presence, in awe of the calmness of his demeanour and gobsmacked by the way it carried itself. Now though, annoyance, irritation and downright anger would be more fitting terms.

“I AM HERE,” it said, its voice as heavy as lead but light as a whisper.

“Yes, finally,” she replied and smiled as politely she could. The figure still made her feel out of place and it scared her a bit to hear its voice again.

“THREE YEARS PAST I CAME TO YOU, NOW I…”

Before he was allowed to finish his little speech, she had something on her mind that had to be said.

“Yes, I know, three years,” she said and stared at the dark figure. Her face was set in stone, and out of pure surprise, the figure stopped talking and gazed upon her, as only Death can.

“Three years ago you came in here, without warning or anything, and– “ she placed her feet hip wide, put her arms akimbo and stared down Death itself. “You turned him into a Hellhound!”

She pointed down at Garm, who was as calm as ever; like he had been the last time it had visited.

“I DID NO SUCH THING,” said Death.

“Yeah, you did!” she said. “He was perfectly fine before you came along, and then he became a Hellhound!”

Garm raised his head. The dog’s eyes grew brighter when she mentioned his true nature. The red glow of them shining down at the fuzzy carpet. He wiggled his bum a little to make himself comfortable again and put his head back down between his paws.

“I DO NOT POSSESS THE POWER TO TRANSFORM A DOG INTO A HELLHOUND,” Death said with a voice that scratched the surface of her brain. Goosebumps shot down her alongside her spine.

“Then how do you explain that?” she asked when the chill had left her.

“I MERELY REMINDED THE BEAST OF ITS TRUE NATURE,” Death said.

“Okay, I’ll admit, the puppy training for him was a bit rough, but I’m pretty sure he never was a hellhound until you came along,” she said.

“BUT HE WAS.”

Death didn’t move at all during the conversation. If it hadn’t been for the twinkling lights in its eye-sockets, she could have mistaken him for a statue. One with a robe that seemed to catch even the faintest of breezes.

“You know, these past few years have been absolutely awful.” She thumped down on the edge of her bed, and to her surprise Death sat down alongside with her.

“Have you any idea how it’s like living with a hellhound in your house?” she said. “And I love him to death. Er… But ehm– He’s been a real challenge that one.” She glanced up at the dark figure sitting beside her.

Garm raised his head again and tilted it to the side, making his ears flop over, watching her as she spoke.

“Then again, he’s so darn cute,” she said. Garm rose to his feet, padded over to her, and put his head in her lap.

“Oh, who’s a good boy,” she said and smothered his head in kisses. “Please, just tell me, what did you do?”

“YOU ARE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTIONS,” said Death.

“Now you’re making even less sense,” she grumbled and continued to pet Garm’s head.

“YOU SHOULD BE ASKING: WHO WOULD OWN A HELLHOUND?” Death looked down at Garm. He was busy wagging his tail.

“What bloody stupid question is that?” she asked and peered at Death, who was studying her with its cold, distant stare. “That would apparently be me, wouldn’t it?”

Death made a sound eerily similar to a sigh.

“Listen, just undo whatever you did, and everything will be fine,” she said. “Tip top.”

“THERE IS A REASON THE HELLHOUND SOUGHT YOU OUT,” said Death.

“Okay, first off. He didn’t seek me out, I adopted him, all right?” she said.

“MOST BEFITTING THEN,” Death said. She glared at him.

“Secondly, he wasn’t a hellhound then, I told you so,” she said. “He was just a cute little puppy.”

Death took a deep breath. She had no idea how that worked out, but nonetheless it did. The dark figure looked away, and put its head in its skeletal hand.

“THREE YEARS I GAVE YOU,” Death said. “THREE YEARS AND YOU STILL HAVE NOT FIGURED THIS OUT.”

“What?” she asked, feeling a bit stupid now. Death was really getting on her nerves.

“LET ME REPHRASE THE QUESTION: WHAT WOULD OWN A HELLHOUND?”

“Uhm– A human?” she ventured. “A stupid one? Maybe?”

By the looks of it, Death was about ready to walk out. It stood up and drew itself to its full length.

“I AM HERE TO COLLECT YOU FOR YOUR DUTY,” Death said as formally as he managed to, considering the situation.

“What duty?” she said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“FUNNY YOU SHOULD MENTION IT,” it said.

“What?” she said. The tall figure stared at her, relieving her of all sense of good feelings. Her mind worked hard for a few moments. Then something switched on in her head. ’’Hell? What about hell?”

“ONLY A DEMON WOULD OWN A HELLHOUND,” Death said, giving up on her ability to come to conclusions.

It took her a few moments to process that particular piece of information. When it finally hit her, she gasped and stared wide-eyed at the dark figure. She scrambled to her feet and got right up in its face. There she found herself sorely lacking in the vertical department compared to the one shrouded in black.

“Now you listen here you little piece of– “

“CAREFUL NOW,” Death said.

In an effort to calm herself down, she drew a heavy breath and steadied herself.

“I am not a demon!” she said, putting every bit of her weight behind her words.

“YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED FOR GLORIOUS DUTY,” said Death.

“But– No! I can’t be a demon,” she said. “Don’t you think I’d know if I was?”

“APPARENTLY NOT,” said Death.

She sat down on her bed again, trying to wrap her head around it all.

“But, I don’t want to go to hell,” she said sounding like someone had stolen her favourite toy. “I haven’t been that bad, I mean, a little shoplifting in my younger days, but who hasn’t?”

Death sat back down beside her, and put a skeletal hand on her shoulder, grasping it with the grip of death itself.

“YOU WOULDN’T BE A PRISONER OF HELL, YOU KNOW,” it said. “YOU WILL BE MORE LIKE AN EMPLOYEE.”

“Yeah? Is that any better?” she asked.

“LET ME PUT IT THIS WAY: YOU WILL NOT BE TORTURED, YOU WILL BE THE TORTURER.”

It hit her like a ton of bricks and left her almost as dazed as if she had been.

“What? I can’t torture anyone! I don’t have it in me, I’m not like that,” she said, desperate for the dark figure to believe her.

“YOU’LL PICK IT UP FAST ENOUGH,” Death said, but then changed its mind. “OH, LOOK WHO I AM TALKING TO.”

She scowled at him.

“YOU WILL BE FINE,” it said and patted her shoulder. “COME ALONG NOW.”

The both of them stood up and as they headed for the door, she couldn’t help but make one last remark.

“I thought you were supposed to be neutral, neither good nor bad, right?”

“I AM MERELY PERFORMING MY SACRED DUTY AS COLLECTOR, I RETRIEVE FOR BOTH THE ETHEREAL AND THE OCCULT,” it said.

“Well then! Why don’t you take a little detour and let me off upstairs?”

“SORRY, NO CHANCE.”

She sighed.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” she said and slouched over a bit. “It was worth a try though.”

The two of them walked over to the door, and Death stepped forth and opened it. Where her hallway had once been, now the pit of Hell lay sprawled before them.

“YOU SHOULD HAIL YOUR COMPANION,” Death said before they were about to step over the threshold.

“Probably should,” she responded. For some reason, she felt calmer now than she had been for a very long time. She looked back to the black dog sitting by the bed.

“Garm?”

The hellhound perked his ears.

“With me.”Start writing here…