The Dog of Death

It was a blistering cold day; I shuddered and wrapped my arms around me, wishing that I’d brought my jumper when I’d had the chance to. I looked up at the enormous building that was the hospital with its huge revolving doors, glazed windows and bleak walls. I snorted; it looked more like a prison than a hospital. I walked in, and looked at the receptionist who gazed back at me in sympathy.

I’d been here the day before when my Grandmother had been taken in; I shuddered as I remembered her lips, they were a dark blue colour and with great big black rings under her eyes. I bowed my head, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I walked quickly through the hallway past the doorways which stank of death but at last I came to her doorway and for some reason her room seemed like a safe haven for her room smelt oddly of lilac and yet for some odd room every other empty or filled room stank of death and decay.

She looked at me as I walked through the door with those eyes which were once so full of life. I smiled at her and pulled up a chair beside her and took her gnarled and claw-like hand in my own. "I'm dying," she said to me, looking out of her window. “Grandma,” don't say that. “You're not dying yet,” I said, knowing in my heart that I was lying. “I am dying,” she said again with more conviction, “I’ve seen the devil's dog, outside.”

She said nodding her head towards the glazed window, “Grandma,” I said “don't be silly. There's no devil's dog out there even if one did exist.” I got up just to prove to her that she was wrong and went to the window and looked down and to my amazement I saw a small dog looking up at the building, with a grin upon its face. It looked at me and it seemed to me that its grin became wider, and then it turned and disappeared in a blink of an eye-it had gone. I told myself that it was a trick of the light but in my mind I knew it was real.

I recoiled quickly pushing myself away from the window, my breathing harsh. “Did you see it?” my Grandma whispered almost desperately, as I sat back down, “No, I didn't see anything at all,” I said with a small shake of my head, “it's just a trick of the light.” She sighed and smiled as if contented with my words but yet she still croaked in a voice so unlike her, “please don’t let it get me, please,” and then relaxed as if a great weight had been taken of her, asleep, her chest rising and falling.

I leant over her and kissed her on the forehead gently and then slowly rose from my seat and quietly left, her words still haunting me “please don’t let it get me, please,” I shuddered and left as quickly as possible with only a quick goodbye to the receptionist.

Just as I crossed the road I turned and looked towards the huge eerie building and there it was that small insignificant dog, staring at the hospital doors as if willing them to open.

And then slowly it turned its head and looked at me, its face seeming to have a huge sardonic smile on it. I shivered and walked away as quickly as I could. The next day as I was making myself lunch the dog kept returning to my mind, my thoughts wondering to myths and legends containing a ‘devil dog’: Cerebus, Anubis and other dog like beasts. My mind whirled as I tried to busy myself in the kitchen hoping to distract myself away from thoughts about the Dog.

I froze as I heard the pitter patter of paws upon the surface of the patio, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, a sudden chill swept through the room as goose bumps formed upon my skin. I whirled when a loud bark rang out echoing around the room, yet there was nothing there. And then the phone began to ring piecing through the air as I let out a silent breath which I hadn’t realised I had been holding. I picked up the phone and listened to the other person.

My grandmother was dead just two minutes ago at the same time as that unnatural bark had gone through the room. I dropped the phone as I slowly turned and looked down upon the dog that stared steadily back at me, a slow grin appearing on its features as I turned and ran.