The Werewolf's Master
By Alina S. Howell
Copyright 2012 Alina S. Howell
Smashwords Edition
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In early June, I drove out to a small, desolate ranch house in the country with enough supplies to get me through the next two months. The house had belonged to my father's old friend. He'd gotten up there in age and his son, Alex, was desperate to find someone to look after the place while he settled his father into a retirement home and prepared to put the house up for sale. I hadn't seen Alex or his father since I was a kid. I knew Alex was several years older than me so we'd never really spoken to each other when I was young, but that's about all I could remember of him.
Still, I didn't mind the request since I was on summer break. Plus, Alex had told my dad that he'd send along some money as thanks. This looked like it'd be the easiest summer job ever.
I spent most of the morning putting away clothes and unpacking the few boxes I'd brought. After lunch, I explored my new surroundings. There was a forest on one side, expansive farmland on the other, and not much else. I also discovered that my nearest neighbor was about a mile away. I felt really isolated here.
After the sun had set, I brought a small beer cooler and some citronella candles to the porch. I sat on a creaky old porch swing and watched the fireflies trail their light in the darkness. A bright full moon had risen and the stars shined beautifully. I'd forgotten just how impressive the sky could look without the glare of city lights to dull them.
At some point, when I was looking at the fireflies again, I realized there was what appeared to be a dark shape by the treeline. I squinted in the darkness and eventually made out the shape of a large dog. As I stared at it, the dog slinked closer until it was only about fifteen feet away from the porch. I assumed it was a lost pet since it was getting closer to me. I called out to it.
“Here, boy!”
The dog just stared.
“Okay, sorry. I don't know what gender you are but I'm trying to help you here.”
I felt ridiculous immediately after saying that out loud. I admit that I really don't know anything about animals and I've never owned anything more interesting than a goldfish. I don't get people who talk to their pets like they can understand what's being said. Truthfully, I have no idea how to handle an animal.
The dog didn't move any closer but it didn't run away either. I felt like it didn't trust me for some reason. I decided to try approaching it but for every step I took forward, it would step back.
“Oh, come on,” I mumbled. “I just want to see if you have a collar on.” Suddenly I had an idea. “I know! I bet you'd like some food, right? Um. Stay, boy! I'll be right back!”
I couldn't believe I was talking to the dog. The beer must have been starting to get to me.
I turned around and went back into the house to find something a dog would like. There wasn't much in the fridge though. I settled on a pack of deli ham and took it back outside. The dog was still there, in the same place I had left it. I pulled out a slice of ham, crouched down and held it out.
“Look, doggy. It's ham. Doesn't it smell good?” The dog didn't react. “Okay...how about I just toss this to you?” I threw the slice of ham gently and it landed about halfway between us. No reaction from the dog though. I sighed. “Aw, fuck it. I didn't know dogs were this picky. You hear me dog? You win. Sorry for trying to make friends with you.”
I walked back over to my beer cooler and shoved the package of ham into it. I took out another beer and slumped back into the porch swing. I went back to staring at the sky but every so often, my eyes would wander back to the dog. The dog continued to sit in the same position. Around about the time I finished my second or third beer, I was pretty sure the dog was watching me as much as I was watching it. Another beer later and I began talking to the dog. I wasn't even sure what I was saying. I was just venting really. I told the dog about school, about working here, about all sorts of meaningless things in my life.