Berokdarr

My youth was… well rough to say the least. I wasn’t very popular in elementary school, and this was before everyone segregated off into their own little cliques. You know goths, band geeks, sports jocks, the tropes to which we all inadvertently adhere to, sometime in middle school. Anyways, I wasn’t popular before that scene at hit our prepubescent bodies. My only friend was Wesley.

Wesley was like me, sort of. We shared similar interests. He liked Star Wars, I liked Star Wars. He collected Digimon cards, and I collected Digimon cards. The only true difference between Wesley and myself was that he got along with the other kids in our school, in fact he was one of the most popular little kids I’ve ever seen in my life. So I really couldn’t fathom why he wanted to be friends with the one kid in school no one really liked.

I can’t say I over thought it much. Seeing Wesley at school was always the highlight of my day, and believe it or not I actually looked forward to school. You see my home life wasn’t the greatest. My dad bailed on us, or so my mother always told me.

“He’s nothing but a limey, dirt bag who ran out on responsibility the moment he found out I was pregnant” she used to tell me.

And like the ignorant youth I was, I drank in every word she said. She remarried, to a man called Phinn… That’s P .. H .. I .. N .. N. Even as a child I knew that Phinn was no good. He was always out late at night, and when he came home he smelled of cigarettes, cheap scotch, and latex. He’d often yell profanities when coming home, making my mother cry until the early hours of the morning.

I don’t know why she stayed with this man, and she was a saint for putting up with him as long as she did. Never the less every morning my mother would see me off to school, tell me she loved me and often begged me to have a good day. I got to see Wesley and we would talk on and on about the latest cartoons or whatever would help distract me from the horrors I would soon go to. Mother became a very different woman by the time I came home.

Dinner was always on the stove and the house spotless. She would never acknowledge me coming home though. She would always be staring off, her eyes blank and empty. Her mind off in the distance somewhere. Who knows what was on her mind. She often would have bruises and red puffy eyes, and throughout the entire evening, every evening she would tend to the pots on the stove without ever saying a word, or even shifting a glance to me. She hardly resembled the loving woman she was almost 9 hours ago.

She would place food in front of Phinn and myself. We would eat and then Phinn would demand that I go to bed.
“You have school in the morning. You want to be at your best. Get a good nights rest.” He would say, even on the weekends.

He wouldn’t even wait for me to get halfway to my room before he started violating my mother. I could hear her cry and rebuff the advances… but it never stopped him. I would fall asleep to the violent sounds that were Phinn mating. He would then go out and drink with his buddies or his “old war friends” though I have always had my doubts that he even ever served.

As time passed and we got a little older my mother suggested that I spend time over at Wesley’s house. His own mother loved the idea and we got to hang out more and more, though I was hesitant to leave my mother. The horrid thoughts of what Phinn would do quickly were pushed to the back of my mind as we played his Playstation 2. MY favorites were Metal Gear Solid 2 and Sly Cooper, though strangely Sly Cooper scared me more than any other game he had for some reason…. This includes Manhunt.

One night Wesley had the brilliant idea that I should spend the night with him on weekends, seeing as I didn’t do anything on weekends anyways. Our mothers okayed the idea and soon I became another part of his family on Saturday and Sunday. Hell things even seemed to be getting better at home. My guess is that Phinn was getting worried that I might be catching on to the on goings, the reason I wanted to be away so much, so he cleaned up his act.

Then Wesley got a dog. A golden lab that they called Nala, because she liked to jump on you and knock you to the floor, much like the character from the Lion King. Though a little rough, Nala was truly a sweet animal and she came to love and accept me just as quickly as Wesley had done himself. You could see love emanating from her deep blue eyes.

When I told my mom about Nala, she kind of wigged out on me.

“A dog? Why does a boy need a dog. It’s too dangero…. Too big a responsibility. Plus dogs die. He’ll be sad when that dog dies. Boys are just too careless to have dogs! I don’t ever want you to call that dog yours.. In any fashion. Not her love or anything! You hear! You keep emotionally clear from that dog!”

She became a bit of a nut after that. Every Monday she would ask how much time I spent with Nala. If I ever accidentally hurt her, or if Wesley had ever said she was our dog. Of course I told her no, no, and no. Wesley became a little concerned when he noticed that I had been paying less and less attention to Nala. And when I told him what my mother said he shrugged it off and laughed.

“Okay dude, I’m not messed up by that. Nala is my dog and just my dog. But she likes you. You can play with my dog. Don’t let your mom’s weirdness keep you from loving a dog.” He said.

“Your Dog…” I said coyly

“My dog.” He reaffirmed.

And I got to play with Nala while also keeping a safe emotional distance from her… for my mom.

High school came around and Wesley and I each joined one of those cliques. Wesley fit right in amongst the drama kids and he even ran for student body vice president. He still was loved by absolutely everyone. I squeezed in with the goth kids, though I was still an outcast amongst them. Wesley and I didn’t spend weekends together any more he got a job at the local McDonald’s and they worked him to the bone. So he couldn’t have people over anymore, but we stayed close.

It wasn’t two months into our sophomore year that he came to me one morning, heart broken. Nala had died. I immediately felt my heart shatter upon hearing the news. We cried for hours and didn’t pay attention to any of our classes that day. I spent the night at his house that weekend as his family prepared a doggy funeral for Nala. It was nice to be there for my friend in his time of need.

We spent all night talking about memories we had with Nala and the things we did as children. And eventually we fell asleep. The sensation of sleep was brief for me though, as a low rumble woke me. There was a deep voice calling out.

“Wessssssssleyyyyyyyyyy…..” it hummed.

I cracked open my eyes just a pinch to see a very tall, thin horned figure in the door way. It took one long, eerily slow step toward Wesley. It felt like his step took hours before the foot landed. His eyes glowed a bright neon blue. The seemed to be burning with hatred and they looked right at Wesley. I was frozen in fear. The foot landed next to me, mere inches from my head. The stench of death wrought from within the creature.

Not like the stench of hospitals or funeral homes that I’ve come to associate with death but the smell of a rotting carcass. It smelled sour and how I had always imagined zombies would smell. Rotting. Festering. The kind of thing that makes you gag as you even think about inhaling.

And with that creature foot right by my head the smell was unbearable. I shifted slightly, So softly that if you weren’t looking for my movements you wouldn’t even notice. What I saw haunts me to this very day. It was skeletal, but it was covered in what looked like thick bristly hairs. There were hairs covering the floor around where this this monster had stepped, and hairs in patches on its leg there were porous gaps, large enough to fit a finger in. From the pores emanated it’s foul odor, and for a brief moment there seemed to be warm, gooey, moving innards. Like something else had been sacrificed to give this creature new organs.

Though leg organs seems like a useless thing at this point I really didn’t question it, because just as I recognized the guts in the pores new bristle hairs sprouted and covered up the holes.

“YYYYYyyyouuuu wwweeeeerrrrreeee wwwiiiiiiiisssssee Weeeeesssssleeyyyyyyy. Bringingggggg aaaa guesssssst iiiiiiiinnnn. Noooooooooot tttthisssssss niiiiiiiiiigggghhhttt. Nnnnnnnnnnno. Buuuuuuut sooooon yoooooouuuuulllllll pppppaaaaaaayyyyy.” It hissed.

The very act of this thing speaking seemed to change the pace of my heart beat. It caused a lump to grow in the back of my throat. Pure fear settled in my body as I went ice cold. The creature placed one long talon over Wesley’s chest, losing and regrowing bristles as it moved. It seemed to purr and coo as it reveled in the thought of what it wanted to do. It stayed like that for forty five minutes… unmoving. Just purring. The pattern still resonated in my very being! Then out of nowhere it quickly turned to me.

In its eyes I no longer saw the hatred that it had when it was looking at Wesley, now in its eyes I saw sorrow, and longing. When I looked into its eyes I felt passion, and the love of a lost family member. It’s beautiful blue eyes held nothing but love. It blinked and exhaled a massive breath.

I woke up and checked the floor for the bristles. I smelled deeply for a rotting odor. I even looked for any sign of damage on Wesley’s chest but found nothing. Wesley eventually woke up and I spun him the yarn that fabricated the story from last night. Astounded he went through my checklist himself just to double check but also came up with nothing. We shook it off as a bad dream and went to have breakfast.

Two weeks later someone had broken into Wesley’s house while his parents were out, working late. He was found dead by his mother with a single stab wound directly in his heart. No one was ever found but security in our neighborhood was quintupled over night. My mom though saddened at his funeral, never cried. When I accounted stories of Wesley, Nala and I in our youth and described how close we all had been…she glared at me. And scoffed at any mention of Wesley’s connection with Nala. For months she only bitched and moaned about how boys can’t love a dog, about the dangers of pets.

Months later she mellowed back out, that was until Phinn, who had been teetering on, trying to be a good man and being an abusive asshole had, using his newly developed feelings brought home a small Chow Chow named Kade. He was part trying to help me feel better about Wesley and partly bringing a peace offering. The previous week he had flipped out on my mom and I stood in to defend her and he beat the living hell out of me. But since then he has put in some effort to change, seeing as my mom threatened him with a divorce.

Kade quickly became the thing between Phinn and me that we could bond over. We both loved his little fuzzy butt and his fat fluffy face. Mom however warned my about never calling him my dog.

“If that dog belongs to anyone…” She would preach

“It’s Phinn. He bought it.”

“But he bought Kade for me mom… and we’ve bonded so much over him.” I pleaded.

My mom has never lain a finger on me in any violent manner but as I said this she full on slapped me. Like pulled back and nailed me right down the center of my face. My nose bled and my forehead and left cheek swelled up.
“TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” She barked ferociously.

“SAY THAT YOU DON’T LOVE THAT FILTHY THING AND THAT IT BELONGS TO PHINN!”
Taking my finger I was jamming it in my nose to stop the bleeding and begrudgingly did as she said. Claiming that Kade belonged souly to Phinn and I was just kinda around him. I had no more ownership of the dog than she did. Of course this didn’t stop me from cuddling him and telling him that he was my big happy fuzz butt. Then Phinn broke his nice guy streak after a night of drinks with some of his coworkers. He rampaged through the house breaking anything he could get his hands on. He didn’t hurt mom or me. He just broke things. They were even only his own things.

Family tragedy struck when we discovered the mangled, bloody body of Kade underneath the curio cabinet that Phinn tore down. Both Phinn and I broke into tears when we recognized the flattened, still breathing body of our beloved dog. Phinn took putting Kade out of his misery into his own hands, quickly snapping the neck of the small dog.

Mother again glared at me, noting the tears welled up in my eyes.

“I’m so sorry, boy…” He said to me.

His voice cracking as he said it.

“I’m so.. so sorry…”

I place my hand on his shoulder, knowing he was in just about as much pain as I was. He looked at me heart broken, but with understanding. We lay Kade’s corpse in a hole dig in the back yard, say our good byes and get on to bed.
That night I heard that sound again. A low bellowing calling out across the hall.

“PPPPPPHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNN….”

The stench of decay filled my room for a brief moment, as it walked past my door.

Remembering the event from last time I convinced myself that it was just a bad dream and fell back to sleep. There are few things as bitter sweet as the sleep you have after bawling your eyes out. You’re just exhausted and sleep feels so good that even though you awaken, still sad, you awaken well rested and full of new energy.

My mother met my gaze as I made my way down the stairs.

“Your father had a dog.” She said coldly

“He loved that creature to no end. This dog however did not like me and it did not like you. So your father took the little beast as his own.”

You can only imagine my bewilderment as she tells me that I was born when my dad was around. I had lived my entire life thinking he was a dead beat. I wanted to argue, pipe in and question the story but she wouldn’t stop long enough for me to interject a single syllable.”

“One day the dog hurt it’s paw and wined for days on end. Eventually it got infected and we had to put the dog down. I wish I could tell you that this one shitty dog is why I didn’t want you getting close to animals but it isn’t. The night after the dog died we were visited by a creature that goes by the name of the Berokdarr. The Berokdarr is a being from another plane of existence, it is every dog, cat, lizard, fish, and bird that has ever been a pet. They all live inside it. The creature takes on a disgusting monsterous shape with rotting holes of organs for flesh, surrounded by a thick skeletal structure covered in hair. It feels everything all these pets endure, all the love and all the torture. It acts out to avenge lost pets… any lost pets when they die. The Berokdarr came and murdered your father, just as it murdered Wesley, and just like it will murder Phinn. It comes to you, calls your name and if you are alone it murders you. If not it haunts you, biding its time until it can kill you… or has to move on to a new victim. That is why I don’t want you getting close to animals son. I don’t want to loose you like your father.”

Tears streamed furiously down her face as she ended her tale. My heart skiped a beat as I realized that the creature I saw at Wesley’s house when Nala died must have been the Berokdarr. I sighed heavily and embraced her. When we received the news that Phinn was involved in a fatal accident that punctured his heart, I understood.

And writing all this down wouldn’t really be that big a deal, maybe a fun ghost story to share with friends. But I did love Kade. Against my mother’s wished I called him my own. A lump is building in my throat. My bedroom reeks like raw beef that has been left out for months, and I just heard a low guttural groan calling my name. Worst of all….. I’m home alone. I’m sorry Mom, I’m going to be with Dad, Wesley and Phinn now. I should’ve listened to you…