OUTSIDE MY WINDOW #6

DISCLAIMER the content and character below is fictional. This is a blog segment where we write a monologue or story depicting fictional characters .Today we are sharing a short story called  “The Dog” written by featured artist Dylan Maguire.

Meet Dylan.

Dylan Maguire is an actor currently in his final year at the University of Alberta’s BFA Acting Program. Over the years, he has dabbled in his free time with writing short stories. This is his first published work. 

The Dog

A blinding white light pierced his eyes, bringing him back to consciousness. He moved his arm to try to block out the painful light and get his bearings. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was– 

“Cut the cucumber, Mr. Issac.” a female voice coming from a speaker cut him off. 

“What?” he replied

“Cut the cucumber, Mr. Issac.” 

As his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he managed to get a better look around. He was in some sort of glass cage. Three of the walls slanted out towards the ceiling as if they were narrowing towards the tip of a pyramid on the floor. The fourth wall, the one directly across from him also slanted out, but had a narrow hallway in the middle of it leading off towards a small warm light. This seemed to be the only exit from the room. The floor was white tile, and in the middle of the room was a small raised platform. On the platform, a white square pedestal. Sitting on the pedestal was a plastic green cutting board with a knife and a whole english cucumber resting on it. Beyond any of the glass, it was pitch black. The only exception was an observation booth positioned across the room from him and above the exit hallway one story above where he was. It jutted into the room, the windows slanting outwards like the walls, consisting of three trapezoidal sides. Light consumed each one so it was impossible to see into the booth, with the exception of three shadows in the centre of the front facing window. One was closer to the window than the other two who stood on either side. The person in front, he assumed, was the woman speaking over the speaker. Addressing the shadow, he asked “Where am I?”

He was met with silence. After a while, he pushed more. “Who are you?! What have you done to me?! Where is my family?! Where is my daughter?!” 

“Cut the cucumber, Mr. Issac.” 

“Tell me where I am!” he yelled, growing increasingly frustrated and afraid. 

“Cut the cucumber.” The voice remained measured and unmoved by his expressions. 

“Fine!” he relented, “You want me to cut the cucumber? I’ll cut the damn cucumber!” Storming up to the pedestal, he grabbed the knife and chopped the cucumber in half. “Happy?! Now tell me where I am!” 

The woman turned to the person on her right and seemed to write something down on a clipboard. After only a small moment, she faced forward again.

“Thank you, Mr. Issac.” she spoke with a twisted polite professionalism in her voice “You’ve been very helpful. Have a cookie.”

The pedestal sunk into the floor with a quick sucking motion, causing him to jump. It was soon replaced by another, identical pedestal. Only this one held a plate of chocolate chip cookies. 

“A cookie?” he asked in disbelief “I don’t want you’re damn cookies! I want–” 

“Okay.” interrupted the woman. “Activating gas.” 

“Gas? What gas?” But it soon became clear. The room began to hiss and a gas began to fill the room from the edges of the floor.

“What’s happening?” he cried out “No! No! Please! Let me out! I have a wife and daughter, please!” 

The room was filling quickly and he began to feel woozy. The room began to spin and he fell to the floor, disoriented. As his eyelids grew heavy and everything around him blurred, he could swear he heard a dog barking viciously. But he lost consciousness before he had time to worry about it.

He awoke again into the bright light in the glass room. As he regained his bearings and his sight returned, he realized that this was not where he had fallen before. He had been moved. But he had no memory of it. No memory of how he got here at all. He looked up at the booth. The woman and her companions were back. Or perhaps they were still there, he had no idea how long he had been out. The pedestal still held a knife and cutting board, though they were slightly different. The knife was larger and the cutting board was black instead of green. The cucumber had been replaced by a piece of raw chicken breast.

“Who are you people?” he asked “What am I doing here?” There was no answer. “Alright then, I’m leaving.” He began to walk towards the hallway across the room. He expected the woman to attempt to stop him but she remained suspiciously silent. He soon learned why. The moment he stepped past the point where the wall turned into the hallway, a loud vicious barking filled the room and he was seized with unimaginable pain. It was as though something was tearing into his flesh, though he could see no wounds nor any assailant. 

“Help me!” he screamed in agony “Help!” But still no one came. The agony continued and he collapsed to the floor. He could feel teeth and claws ripping away flesh from his arms, legs and torso, but there was nothing pinning him down. He tried to find the source of the pain but saw nothing. Finally he managed to lift his head high enough to see a small stuffed dog sitting at his feet. His head was soon brought back down to the floor, as if someone had stepped on his neck. It seemed not to matter how he tried to protect himself, there was no blocking or stopping the seemingly invisible assailant. The barking grew louder and louder reaching the point where it became deafening.

And then, silence. There was no more pain, no more clawing and biting. And he was left unharmed. He looked around the hallway for his attacker but saw no one. Not wanting to risk anything, he ran back into the room. 

“What just happened?!” He demanded of the window woman.

“There is a dog guarding the exit, Mr. Issac, it’s best you stay here.”

“I didn’t see any dog.” 

“There is a dog guarding the exit, Mr. Issac. You saw it.” 

“What dog?! The toy?!”

“There is a dog guarding the exit, Mr. Issac. It attacked you, you saw it.”

He remained silent. Clearly he was not going to get much clarity from this woman. He would have to figure out what was going on by himself. Seeming to accept that he was not going to press any further, the woman issued a new set of instructions. 

“Cut the chicken, Mr. Issac.” 

“I will not play–”

“Cut the chicken, Mr. Issac, and we will allow you to talk to your daughter.” 

He froze. Did this mean she had his daughter? What was going on? 

“If you are harming her I swear to God I will kill you all.” 

“Relax, she is fine. We do not have her. If you would like to know that for a fact, then cut the chicken, Mr. Issac.”  

He did not want to give this woman the satisfaction of continuing to play her games, but with his daughter on the line, he felt he had little choice. He walked up to the pedestal and cleaved the chicken breast in half. Immediately, the pedestal sunk into the ground again and was replaced with another pedestal, this time holding a black and gold rotary phone.

“Dial 1.” The woman said. 

Looking down at the phone he reached for the place where the number 1 would usually be on a rotary phone, but he soon realized that all ten of the digits were the number 1. What was going on with this place? Not wanting to risk spoiling his chance, he decided to be safe and picking up the phone, dialed the 1 where it would be on a normal phone. It rang twice before being answered. 

“Hello?” said the voice of a little girl

His eyes began to swell. It was his daughter. She was safe. “Hi sweetie.” he replied, choking up.

“Daddy? Where are you?” 

“I’m–” the phone clicked and the dial tone replaced his daughter’s voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Issac, that is your allotted time for this reward–”

“No, please!” he begged over top of her “Please, let me talk to her! You said I could talk to her!” 

“–further completed tasks will result in further rewards. Activating gas, now.”

Once again the room began to hiss and fill with gas.

“Please!” he continued to beg. “Please! Please.” he began once again to get dizzy and he sunk to the floor. “Pls” he tried to speak, but he was losing control of himself. His eyes drifted closed and once again the barking began. Fear gripped him and his eyes opened slightly. Sitting directly in front of him was the small stuffed dog. How did that get there?! He felt a sudden pain in his neck, as if a great jaw had clamped down on him, about to tear out his throat. He cried out in pain, certain that he was going to die.

He was surprised when the light pierced his eyes again. He had no idea how he had escaped death. Though in reality, he was not sure he had. He was exhausted. It took almost all of his energy to stand up, and then he instantly felt a stabbing pain in his gut. When was the last time he had eaten? And for the matter, when was the last time he had had a drink?

“I have to apologize, Mr. Issac.” said the woman, grabbing his attention “the dog got loose at the end of your last session and attacked you again. It was not meant to and it will not happen again. Rest assured we have treated your wounds.” Wounds? He didn’t remember having any wounds? But how could he not have when he so clearly remembered a dog biting into his neck? But there had been no dog besides the stuffed toy, right? “We would like to make amends.” continued the woman “You must be hungry. Please, eat.” 

From her booth, her shadowy figure gestured downward toward the pedestal. He approached it cautiously. A small, white cloth was draped over it so that it made a diamond. There was a candle sitting on the left corner furthest from him. Near that was a glass of water. A knife and fork sat on either side of a plate, that held two halves of a grilled chicken breast, and a cucumber salad. He scoffed at what he thought must be their sick attempt at a joke, and briefly thought that there was no way he was going to accept anything from them. His stomach, however, quickly used a jolt of pain to remind him of his hunger. If he was to survive, he would have to eat. Reluctantly, he picked up the knife and fork. He ate in stubborn silence, not once looking up at the booth. When he had finished, he stepped away from the platform. It disappeared and was replaced with a larger one with two cages on it. One, the much smaller of the two, held a mouse, the larger one, a snake. 

“Feed the snake, Mr. Issac.” 

He looked at the animals and began to move towards the pedestals. But then he stopped. No, he wouldn’t do it. Not yet. If he was going to get out of here, things needed to start happening on his terms. “Let me speak to my daughter first.” 

“Mr. Issac, look into the hallway.”  the woman instructed “There you will see the dog. If you do not comply, the dog will be released.” 

Slowly, he looked over the pedestal and into the hallway. Sitting near the front of it, just barely in the light of the room, was the small stuffed dog. He chuckled, but despite himself, he felt a small amount of fear creep inside of him. 

“You can’t fool me. None of it is real. Not the dog, not the pain. I don’t know how but it’s all fake! I won’t be scared into doing your bidding! What’s the point of it all anyway!?” 

There was a long silence that followed in which he could see the woman consulting with the people on either side of her. Fear continued to build in him and he realized what he had done. They controlled this situation, and he was about to be punished. Worse, he would not be able to talk to his little girl. After a few of the longest minutes of his life, the woman and her companions turned to face forward again. 

There was a brief pause, and then “Releasing dog.” 

“No!” he cried, but it was too late. The barking began, louder than ever, accompanied by the hissing of the gas being released. He was once again brought to the floor, writhing in pain as he was attacked. He kicked and flailed as he tried to escape the pain but he could not. He felt a great claw slash at the side of his face forcing him to turn his head. There, he saw the dog sitting there, directly in front of his face. The torture went on for hours, long past the point where he wished that it would just kill him already. It seemed that he must’ve already but he just could not die. Eventually he lost all sense. He couldn’t hear or see anything. All he could do was cry. 

“Feed the snake, Mr. Issac.” Her voice seemed to boom through the silence. It brought him back to his senses. The barking had stopped, the dog was gone, as was the gas and the pain. When that had happened, he wasn’t sure. 

“Feed the snake Mr. Issac or we will release the dog again.”

He scrambled to his feet. He could not take that again, he would do anything to escape it. He went straight to the pedestal, opened the cage with the mouse, grabbed it, and dropped it into the snake cage. 

“Thank you, Mr. Issac. You’ve been very helpful.” 

“Can- can I talk to my daughter now?” he asked. 

“Unfortunately, your early resistance forfeited this trial’s reward. You may try again next time.” 

The room began to fill with gas. 

This time when he awoke he felt something different. There was something in his hand. As his eyes came in to focus he saw that he was holding a gun. This focused his attention immediately. He had never held a gun before, he had no idea how it worked. He turned to the pedestal and his heart stopped. Sitting there, calmly, unmoving, was the dog. He froze, not wanting to scare it. It was looking right at him, seeming to stare into his very soul with his barren, beady, black eyes.

“Shoot the dog, Mr. Issac.” 

“What?” 

“Shoot the dog and end your pain, or we will release it.”

For this task they didn’t need to ask him again. He would happily kill that mutt for what it did to him. He would never be hurt like that again. It needed to be put down. Finger on the trigger he took aim directly at it. There was no way anyone could miss at this distance, even an inexperienced shooter like himself. And yet he found himself hesitating. Looking at it now, the dog looked so small, unable to commit the attacks that he had suffered. In fact it looked so friendly, and, for lack of a better word, cuddly, that it seemed cruel to take it’s life. It was innocent.

And then the barking started. He fired instantly and the dog exploded into small clouds of white fluff.      

“Thank you, Mr. Issac. You’ve been very helpful.”

The pedestal sunk into the floor.  Before it was replaced by anything it sucked in all the white fluff in the room. 

“Wha– what happened? The dog it– it exploded! And that– that fluff! What happened?” 

He received no answer. When all the white fluff was gone the pedestal replaced itself and once again held the rotary phone. He stared at it, looked up at the booth, and then back to the phone. He reached out for it, but hesitated, looking back up to the booth again. 

“You may call your daughter, Mr. Issac, and tell her you will see her soon.” 

He hesitated only a moment longer, not believing what he had heard. But then he snatched up the phone and dialed. It rang three times before she answered. 

“Hello?”

“Hi! Hi, sweetie, it’s daddy.” 

“Daddy? Where are you?” 

“I– I don’t know sweetie. But don’t worry, I’m okay. Listen, I’m gonna see you soon alright? Just hang in there. I’m gonna see you soon and I’ll give you a great big hug, okay?”

“Okay daddy.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

They were cut off again by the dial tone. Slowly, he hung up. Though he was disappointed to be cut off again, he couldn’t help but be thrilled by the prospect of his release and of seeing his daughter again. When the room began to fill with gas, he lay down on the floor willingly, eagerly awaiting what came next. As he drifted off, he heard the woman say to one of her companions. “Patient 01110011 01110101 01100011 01101011 01100101 01110010 is ready.”  

He awoke again to the bright light. The gun was in his hand again, but the pedestal was empty. 

“Mr. Issac, I’m sorry to say that during your last session we had to lie to you. The dog you shot was a stuffed animal, a fake. The real dog is still in the hallway guarding the exit. If you shoot it, you will have a clear path to the exit and you may leave.” The woman instructed. 

That was it. It was that easy. He could do it. And then he could leave and see his little girl . He began to approach the hallway. In it’s faint light he could see the dog’s shadow. It looked odd though. Taller than expected. And it’s ears seemed to be long and hanging down. It did not look vicious, and he felt no threat from it. It felt rather innocent. Then tt turned to him, noticing for the first time that he was there. It began to run at him.  Then the barking started. It was so loud it seemed to reverberate from everywhere. But it was odd. Different. Something was under it. Like it was trying to speak to him. He might’ve been able to make out words if it weren’t for the barking filling his ears. It kept running at him. 

“Shoot the dog Mr. Issac” the woman instructed. 

The dog kept barking and under it all was still this incessant nagging that told him to listen, listen closer and you will understand what it’s trying to tell you. What was it saying? D–? Da–? What? “What are you saying?!” he cried out at it.

“Shoot the dog Mr. Issac or it will hurt you when it gets to you! If it reaches you you will never see your daughter again.”

Die! It was telling him to die! The dog was taunting him. It wanted to keep him from his daughter. Well he’d be damned if this dog was going to keep him here! Keep him from his daughter! He aimed and shot every bullet in his gun to make sure he hit it. It crumpled to the ground and the barking stopped. It finally stopped. He couldn’t help but laugh! He had done it! He could finally go home! He started to walk down the hallway, hesitantly at first, just in case. But with every step he gained confidence so that by the time he reached the dog, he was running, his eyes adjusting to the light along the way. When he got there though, he saw that it wasn’t a dog, but a person. A little girl, faced down on the ground. Heart frozen in his chest he knelt, on the ground and ever so slowly turned her over, to see the face of his daughter. He let out a great cry. Devastated, he pulled her into his arms, unwilling to let her go.“Thank you, Mr. Issac.” the woman said over the speaker “You’ve been very helpful. You are free to go.”   

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