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Storyteller's Cabin |
What I discovered was that the old house was a dark crypt of painful memories. Although the outside was run-down, everything inside was left as it was, as if my parents had suddenly been plucked from the earth by some unseen force. Fortunately, this also meant that my father's bar was still fully stocked. Without hesitation, I grabbed a bottle of scotch, made myself a fire in the old stone fireplace in the den, and drank myself to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by an odd thumping noise coming from upstairs. The house was dark and cold, and my fire was long extinguished. In my drunken stupor, I had forgotten to leave any lights on, and now I was enveloped in the blackness. After an eerie silence, I heard the thumping again, this time sounding like something moving about in the upstairs hallway, the floorboards creaking under its weight. I remembered that squirrels and other small creatures sometimes found their way into the house when I was young. But this sounded larger than a squirrel.
The thumping sound descended the stairs and moved closer and closer toward the den. Through my drunken haze, I recognized it as the rasp of claws on wood. I heard it enter the room, then stop. I fumbled around me in the dark for a candle, found one on the mantle, and lit it.
I could scarcely believe my eyes. Sitting in the doorway, slobber dripping from the sides of his mouth, was Mac, looking strong and youthful. He made no move toward me, but just stared at me with twinkling, excited eyes. After a long pause, he whirled around and ran out the door, barking loudly.
I guess it crossed my mind that this was very strange, being visited by a dead dog in the middle of the night. But I found myself following him as he bounded through - and I do mean "through" - the front door. Before I knew it, we were running through the frosty night deep into the woods, the brittle pine needles crackling under my feet. My flickering candle cast strange shadows on the dark trees towering ominously overhead, as if they were encircling me for the kill. After what seemed like miles, Mac suddenly stopped under one of the trees and began pawing at the ground.
Now, have you ever have one of those moments when you finally realize you're dreaming, and you have the power to wake yourself up? Well, this was one of those moments, and I wasn't about to be fooled.
"Okay Mac, I know what this is about," I heard myself say. "I ain't digging up your ashes, you hear me? I know this is a dream, and I'm gonna wake myself up now. You ain't ever gonna leave these woods."
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