EXTRACT FOR
The Hound Of Doom
(Christopher Newman)

 Will walked naked into the living room and found the abandoned glasses. He frowned as he saw they were dirty. He knew they had only just used them an hour ago, but he preferred to use clean ones. He took them to the sink and plucked out a new pair from the cupboard beside the window.



As he turned he swore he saw something moving around outside, beyond the white lace drapes. He moved the curtains aside and stared out into the darkness of the complex's parking lot. There was a slight fog on the ground. Its white smokiness swirled and danced in the spring night, like some ethereal creature summoned from another strange plane of existence. He was momentarily mesmerized by the hazy and eerie white glow caused by the streetlights filtering through the fog, before he spotted it again.



It was a creature the size of one of those miniature horses. It was a black outline against the whiteness of the fog and moved towards the window with its head bowed down, apparently sniffing the ground.



It's a dog, Will realized with a tilt of his head. One of those hillbillies across the street must've not tied his mutt tight enough. The damn thing has gotten loose and is sniffing around for garbage.



The longer he stared at it, the more it looked like one of those big mastiffs, the kind you see in those horror movies about dogs. The canine wandered closer and closer, and Will stood there buck naked and wondering what it was up to. It upset him to think the animal assumed he would be so crass as to fling garbage out his window for it to dine on. A sneer crossed his face, and he wished he hadn't thrown out the hot water he had cooked the pasta in.



"A face full of scalding water is exactly what would teach that rotten animal to stay where it belongs!" he mused to himself. In his mind's eye the comment evoked mental images, and sounds of the animal yelping and running across the street only to be hit by a passing car. Laughter burst from his lips with a startling sound.



"What's so funny, Will?" Carrie's voice drifted into the kitchen from the bathroom.



"Just some stupid dog sniffing around outside, babe," he turned to reply, as she turned on the shower. But when he looked out the window again he jumped back with a stifled shout of fear. He almost dropped the glasses he was holding.



Two blazing red eyes inches from his own nearly scared the shit out of him. The mutt had risen on its back legs and was glaring at Will eye-to-eye. The dog's stare seemed to burn into him; then, with a blur of movement it was gone, leaving behind only the terror it had caused. His hands continued to shake for a couple of minutes; he seemed to be rooted to the very spot where he stood, and his mind was frantically trying to calm down.



"Are you coming?!" Carrie shouted past the closed door of the bathroom, above the noise of the shower.