The creaking door makes me sit up.
He stumbles in. A fetid damp smell follows.
I’m not sleeping. Just waiting for him. The others have gone to bed.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “My fault.”
I stand up, stretch and pad towards him.
Sobbing, he hugs me close. Face buried in my dirt encrusted fur. The stench of rot is almost overpowering. I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh.
It’s the same every night since the accident.
He leaves me. Shambling to the top of the stairs. A nightmare sentinel.
I lie back down.
Waiting.
Eyes glowing in the dark.
Clever one! Love the POV and you make us work for it a bit, too. great stuff.
Great, Dan. Love the different POV here and the use of language that implies it!
Any specific inspiration for this one?