The concrete floor is uncomfortable, the sleeping bag thin. The night is cold, and the wind seeps through the many openings of the gazebo. But these are the least of my concerns. There are three dogs just outside the doorless gazebo; vicious by the sound of them. They turn rabid at my slightest movement. Their barks and growls saturate the silent night. They could be right at my ear and it wouldn’t make a difference.
But they refuse to get in. This only gives me slight comfort – I won’t be torn to shreds by ferine dogs. But what will tear me to shreds? What keeps the dogs from getting inside the gazebo? There is no physical barrier. So what are they afraid of? I doubt they have had any form of sophisticated training. They are rural dogs after all.
Some believe that certain animals possess a sixth sense for the supernatural. The thought frightens me. Dad has told me so many witchcraft stories that my mind need not exert its imagination as to what keeps the dogs away. The gazebo does belong to some shop owner after all. They are usually the most suspect of rural folk. Continue reading “Of Strange Gazebos And Terrifying Tales – a Zim short story based on true events”