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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1305812-The-Crimson-Van-Gogh-Club
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1305812
A man goes to a creepy manor. Who knows whats lurking about?
          A bitter wind mournfully howled across the road, making Roy's neck hairs stand at attention as he drove through the starless, cloudy night. The bare, creeping trees that lined either side of the one lane road extended their gnarled branches out to tap the edges of his truck, occasionally scratching the already fading red paint. The moon was full, casting a sickly yellow light through the clouds to splash out across Roy's path. Shadows danced and spun through the air, making him jump with their irregular shapes. It was the perfect set up for some kind of scary movie.
         
          Repressing a shiver, Roy attempted to turn on his radio, hoping for an alleviation to the eerie silence. All he recieved was static. He turned the tuner knob, hoping maybe he was just on an invalid frequency. No such luck; there was nothing but the same annoying fuzzy sound. Apparently he was too far out, even for the radio towers. He swore and jammed the power button in, his frustration building. For a second, he was mad, but then he calmed himself. He had just seen too many horror movies. Everything was completely alright.
         
        He continued driving up the narrow road in silence. What in the hell was he thinking anyway, coming out here? It was dumb, no matter what sort of letter he had recieved. At the time when he had opened the envelope in the comfort of his well lit living room, it had seemed like the opportunity of the century. A chance not only to reveal his art to the world, but to make some much needed money. Two of his highest priorities at this time in his life.
       
          The letter, which had been decorated with rich, eccentric engravings, was an invitation to an artist's convention. Apparently someone who had seen his work had recommended him, giving him access to an "esteemed artistry club" which would "help all of his paintings gain recognition in the eyes of critics everywhere," or so the letter had claimed. The only problem with the offer was that the club was in a place he had never been to before, way outside of city-limits. And when he had searched for it online, the "Crimson Van Gogh Club" had yielded no results. Finally, after quite a bit of pacing and muttering, he had decided to come out to the address the letter stated. After all, he had his map in the backseat and could just ask for directions if he got lost.
         
          Now, however, Roy felt downright stupid. He leaned against the headrest and sighed. He hadn't realized there would be no one to ask or more importantly, that these roads weren't even on his map. He was in the middle of nowhere, literally, if the map had anything to say about it. He sighed again.
       
        Without warning, something large and hairy bounded in front of him. Quickly, he skidded to a stop, his tires squealing in expostulation, violently protesting against the hard ground. Roy was slammed back into the seat and he sat still, his heart pounding in his chest. The thing that had jumped in front of him moved slowly foward, but Roy still couldn't make it out. He craned his eyes in the night's harsh blackness. Apparently, his headlights had gone out. Typical of his beat-up old car.

        The dark shadow came closer. It was right next to his hood now. Roy squinted, his eyes small brown specks...

        Suddenly, yellowish, mottled light spilled forth from behind a large, imposing cloud, the moon's subtle gift to Roy's eyes. Roy nearly laughed aloud. He had been so scared! And for what!? A great, big, hairy dalmation!
       
        The dalmation shivered, its tail between its legs and its eyes pinned on Roy's, pleading in the cold, night air. Roy's heart melted and he opened the door. The dog remained stationary, obviously still scared. Roy whistled, a friendly whistle, denotating frisbees and warmth. The dog's ears perked up and he cautiously trotted over. About 5 feet from the open car door, he stopped, intrigued and suspicious of the man sitting in the driver's seat.

      "I won't hurt you boy. Just want to help. I don't think you should be all alone out here in these woods."

      With a little more coaxing and whistling, the dog jumped in, cuddling up in the passenger seat by the heaters.

      "Smart dog, aren't you? You picked the best spot in the car."

      Roy looked over the dog, noticing his shiny, healthy, white and black fur, and his clean, pearly teeth.

      "So how did you get out here in the first place boy? I haven't seen any sign of civilization for at least 10 miles."

      Roy pondered the dog's random appearance as his heart ceased it's incessant pounding and his breathing returned to normal. He felt alot better now. With the dog in the car, he had a sort of companionship. He laughed at himself. Feeling safe because of a dog? How silly.

      After a few tries, the car's engine finally started back up, purring a steady hum of automotive efficiency. The headlight's flickered on as well, illuminating the road and the seemingly endless expanse of forest all around him. With a quick jerk, Roy threw the car back into drive and they continued on.

      Roy tried the radio again, fiddling with the knob almost absent-mindedly. The almost dead-silence and the pale light on the road was relaxing, almost hypnotic. He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to hit a tree or something this far out. He started to sing to alleviate the silence.

      "I wanna rock with you... All night, Dance you into sunlight, Rock the night away!"

      The dog perked his head up and looked at Roy, his eyes full of curiosity. Roy looked back at him.

        "What? My singing isn't that bad. And I know you like Michael Jackson."

        The dog sighed and layed his head back down.

        Roy laughed. At least the dog hadn't started howling with him. That would have been a really ego-changing experience.

      Finally, after a few more minutes of silent driving, Roy spotted a black, iron gate nestled among the foresty expanse. The moonlight fell down in heavy streams, reflecting off the cold metal, illuminating the dirt path that went deeper into the forest. Roy pulled up and looked over the gate. Yep! There was the address, next to the strange, ornate symbols that crawled over the gate, the same ones that had been on the letter. He looked at the envelope in his hand one more time, verifying. It was definitely the right place.

      He opened his car door and stepped out into the cool breeze. The dog jumped out right behind him, squeezing past Roy's legs in his eagerness. Roy looked at him and smiled. He had never had a dog before, but maybe he would keep this one if he couldn't find the owner. Which reminded him; he might as well make a temporary name for the dog. It kind of felt wrong just calling him dog. He was more of a... Well, what suited the dog for a name?

      Roy leaned against the car and watched the dog sniff around the metal gate, occasionally growling or barking. His fur started to stand on end and then his sharp teeth went on display as he snarled at something in the foliage to the gate's right. Roy stood up straighter. Something seemed off. The dog could definitely sense it too.

    Something moved in the trees. Something large enough to be a horse or a cow. Roy could barely see the dim outline of a shadow in the woods. Then something rustled in the trees behind him. He spun, another large shadow, hardly showing in the pale light. The dog was absolutely going wild now. He snarled louder; a vicous, low sound.  The shadows quit their slow, stalking behavior and sat still. Then Roy heard something that made his stomach lurch.

    A howl echoed through the small cove among the sea of trees that the car was parked in, vengeful and full of passion. The dog suddenly sprinted into the woods towards the shadow nearest Roy, his eyes flashing in malice as he pounced.

    Roy shouted, " No boy! Come back! "

    He wanted to dash into the woods after the dog, but some survival instinct told him to stay put. All he could hear were the dog's barks, fading as the dog moved deeper into the forest. What were those shadows? Bigger dogs? That was all Roy could think of.

    Another howl from the opposite direction. Roy quickly backed against the car, his heart yet again racing in his chest. There was something almost unearthly in those howls, that was for sure. He wanted to jump in the car and shut the door, but what if the dog came back and needed his help?

    A piercing shriek echoed through the forest, something had been hurt. Roy could only hope that it hadn't been the dog. Then... silence. Roy sat still, simply listening to the steady beat of his heart in his chest. Several minutes passed with Roy hoping against hope, when the dog slinked out, limping and whimpering. His back leg seemed to be hurt.

    Roy ran to him.

    "Are you alright boy? What happened?"

    The dog just looked at him with big brown eyes. Roy embraced him, throwing his arms around his neck, careful not to touch the injured leg.

    Then he stood up and looked down at the dog sternly.

    "Dog. Never do that again. It was foolish and reckless. What would I do out here without you?"

    The dog whined and came up to nuzzle Roy's legs.

    "I know, I know... You weren't trying too. It's just in your nature."

      Roy rubbed the dog's head and then went and opened his trunk. He had a first aid box in there somewhere, amidst all the junk. Finally he found it nestled between a jack and the spare tire, and knelt down to examine the dog's wounds. A gash. Not too severe, but still painful. He immediately set to work.

      As he worked, his mind raced. Definently another dog he decided. What else could make this sort of cut or make those sounds? It was creepy to think about such big dog's roaming the forest at night. He looked at the dog's face.

      "How could you be so crazy boy? They were obviously bigger than you. What could have possibly possesed you to fight something that big?"

      And then, a perfect name came to mind, just as he applied the finishing touches to the bandages.

      "How's the leg feel, Courage?"

      Courage wagged his tail and licked Roy's hand in appreciation.


            End of Part 1

     
       
       
       

       
         
       
             
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1305812-The-Crimson-Van-Gogh-Club