Chapter Text
It was on Christmas when Darling got her best present: Blake, her little cocker spaniel pup. Oh, you had to see it when she first saw the dog come out of the gift box. It was just like she asked it to Jim, her husband. He was barely at home -- since he was a Lance Corporal in the British Army, and this story goes around the first World War, my dear readers --, so she wanted someone, or somedog, to be her friend when Jim was not around.
“It’s for you, Darling.” said the soldier as he tossed a big pink box to her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, Jim, dear!” the gentle woman’s expression immediately changed to a smile. “Is it the one I was admiring, isn’t it?” She took off the box’s white ribbon to open it. A quiet but high-pitched yapping came from it. She shoved the cover and sighted the canine. To this day I remember how joyfully surprised she was. “He’s so sweet.” she picked him up and, as if he already knew her, licked her cheeks in pure affection. She was so happy she hugged her dog countless times.
After their nice little celebration party, the couple leaves Blake in the laundry room before they head off to bed. Jim took the opportunity of going there to already leave his and his wife’s clothing so he’d clean them the next day, the young hound following.
Jim organized everything then placed a basket on the floor.
“Come on, Blake, over here!” he called. Blake obeyed. Jim carefully picked him up and placed him inside the basket. “Now that’s a good boy!” The dog tried to leave, but it was not a choice. Bedtime was here and he couldn’t avoid it.
Darling, who was also there, covered Blake in a nice warm blanket. “Are you sure he will be alright here?”
“Yes, I’m sure. He’ll be as snug as a bug--” he stopped his pun to leave a newspaper sheet beside the basket. I think we all know what it's for. “--whoops, almost forgot.” he continued with a chuckle. “Good night, Blake, see you tomorrow.”
Blake let out a bark as a response. The couple left.
Only now the baby dog realized how dark the room was. He looked around, an awful feeling that he was being watched stung him. He noticed a pair of white pale eyes on the corner of the room. Watching him. Waiting… for the perfect moment to launch itself at him and suck his blood. He sighted more eyes. Suddenly there were dozens of them. Some approached him, Blake gasped and started screaming for help, as loud as he could.
The horrible shadows with eyes still crept closer. It was like a nightmare. When one of them was about to brush the brown fur of one of his ears, Blake heard Jim’s voice coming from upstairs, ordering him to stop. The shadows vanished when the soldier’s voice echoed.
Now let me tell you something, my dear reader, those shadows were just Blake’s imagination. The little hound’s mind could play with him as much as it desired to, couldn’t it? Well, that’s what was happening.
Soon the eyes returned, on another spot of the room. Blake yowled and yelled, jumping from his little bed and running as fast as possible to the door. With a huge push it opened, he was determined to run away from there and go sleep with his owners. So that’s what he did. He entered the room, his owners making a strange sound. It startled him for a heartbeat, but he ignored it and sat by their bed. He started barking.
Jim murmured something Blake didn’t get - something about wanting to make him shut up. Darling told him off, replied he shouldn’t say it. The lance corporal sighed. Defeated, he let Blake get up on the bed and curl himself up beside his loved ones. He felt safe around them. Last thing he remembered doing was closing his little eyes and sleeping.