I wrote this once before on my Facebook about 4-5 years ago and it has been in my mind for as much time. I always thought that the initial version was rather weak, and didn't do my mind's eye justice. My limiting factor was my ability to write; I have improved leaps and bounds over the person I was, and although i have room for improvement, I find myself in a good enough position to give this another shot. I have done little fiction writing int he past year or so, because I have been busy being productive in other avenues of my writing, but it was never forgotten. My creative writing is still a massive part of who I am, and although unexpressed for the last year, it probably shadows any other aspect of who I am - I am a writer, of which a large part is consumed with a larger dream of releasing full novels with some of the fleshed out worlds I have created over the past few years that I have yet to release for public consumption. I will explain further in the future, but for now, I'd like to preface this piece by explaining something.
This piece is a weird, twisted one sided story that I haven't bothered putting more thought into, because it is perfect the way it is - simply as a glimpse of a strange world, a fantastical growth from a deeper recess of myself. This piece is more of an exploration of what I find creepy, scary, and disturbing, and allows me to practice my situational writing. Basically, a situation that would be terrifying to find yourself in. I've modified it in my head from the original, but the same basic idea still stands.
The dog was barking again - nothing new there.
"Chester! Be quiet! No one's there."
Ever since they'd moved to the neighborhood, he'd been barking at every sound. It'll take him some time to get used to being so close to people. Travis sat by the computer, trying to refocus on his work, but Chester kept on hollering at the invisible enemy. After a minute of sporadic barking inhibiting reattempts to concentrate, Travis got up from his desk and walked into the living room where Chester was barking at something outside the window. Travis took a quick glance, and as he'd suspected, it was nothing; if anything, it was the neighbor working in the yard. Jon could be found out in his yard at any hour of the day, but as the sun set, he usually took one last stab at planting, fixing, or rearranging some aspect of the garden.
With a sigh, and a quick ruffle of Chester's ears, Travis turned to walk into the adjacent open kitchen. Chester remained ever alert, his tongue suspended between his teeth, panting lightly, staring out of the low hanging window. Travis, unconcerned, opened the fridge and grabbed a Pepsi, looked at it, and then put it back in favor of Pepsi Max - Sophie had gotten on him about soda causing cancer or some rubbish of the sort. He opened the 20 oz bottle, letting carbonation escape before taking a swig. Turning, he took a casual look into the living room - Chester, ever watchful.
Travis chuckled, "You show 'em, boy."
Chester shifted a bit, rearranging his jowls as he surveyed the land before him. He then honed in a new target to begin his mumbles and growls - the precursor to his usual barking sessions.
"Hey, that's enough, buddy, I think whatever you're trying to act tough for is probably scared off by now.", Travis said lightly as he approached the front of the house again and laid a hand on Chester's back. Chester let out a few barks, and then turned to his owner briefly.
"Okay, okay, I'm going to show you that there is nothing there, come here." Putting his drink on the mantle, and grabbing Chester's collar, Travis pulled him to the front door.
Opening the door, one hand remaining firmly on Chester's collar, they walked onto the front step.
"As usual, you're overreacting,", Travis spoke to his puppy as if he could understand him, "I think the score is about a million, me, and zero, you."
Charlie barked once more at something down the road, and Travis followed his sight line. A neighbor down the road was standing on his front step, as well.
"If you're going to bark at everyone that walks out of their house, Ches, I'm going to have to put you in the backyard - I can't do my work."
The dog began intermittently growling, his eyes peeled in the same direction as before. Travis kneeled down to ease the discomfort of being half stooped down to keep a steady hand on his puppy.
"Ches, stop it, seriously."
Taking a second glance, Travis noticed that another neighbor had emerged down the street and was standing oddly slumped over on his front step. He couldn't remember his name, but he remembered meeting him the other week. He looked at one of the closest houses to his own and saw Mrs. Samson doing the same thing, and upon further investigation, all of the neighbors were acting the same way - slumped over, arms sort of dangling by their sides, unmoving from their respective front steps, doors open behind them. Finally, Travis turned his gaze to Jon's house, his nearest neighbor, and the one he had gotten to know the best over the past few months since he and Sophie had moved into the new house; alarmingly, he too was acting strangely.
Half whispering, Travis pulled his dog closer, "Chester, what's wrong with them?", but Chester only growled, his muzzle crinkled up, ears half folded back in alarm.
Travis made a C shape with his free hand, cupping it around his mouth, and yelled across the street to Jon, "Jon, are you alright?", his voice cracking a bit.
No response.
To Be Continued...
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