WUFF

Chapter 1 In his bedroom at four o’clock in the morning, David Greco was awakened from his sleep by a sound. It subtly snuck into his subconscious. From there, it moved into his conscious. David was used to the sounds the house made in the night. This was not one of them. He did not recognize it, but it did not concern him. He rolled on his side, away from the window. January in Chicago was usually cold. This night was no exception. Twenty degrees outside, snowing, a brisk wind rattling the trees and his window. That sound to David was actually soothing. He fell back asleep easily, as most twelve-year olds can do. David rarely dreamed. He did not remember many, but in his new dream, he was running to a cliff edge and jumping off. Despite being asleep, he felt the excitation of the fall, his stomach tingling its way up his body. He liked the feeling. Frequently, as he fell asleep, he would try to conjure up the dream. In a funny way, it also soothed him. The sound again woke him. He was sure he had heard it. It was not part of his dream. A low huff. Now he was fully awake, and he had to pee. He got up, shuffled to his bathroom, and lifted the toilet seat. As he left the bathroom, the sound resonated again. A wuff, or a huff, or a growl. The bedroom door was closed. His family—his mother—did not own a dog, but the sound was vibrating in his ears and his chest, like that of a big dog’s warning growl: low-pitched and soft. It resonated in him. Shivering ran through to his spine. His ribs fluttered in his thin chest. For his age, David was tall. Above average for height, but below average for weight. He opened his closet door and scanned inside. Nothing. He looked under his bed, his desk, and his dresser. Nothing. He pulled the drape away from his window. Nothing but the tree outside covered in snow with snow blowing through the branches. He did not turn his light on. His mother was a light sleeper and might see it, or sense it, as mothers are able to do. He climbed back into his bed and pulled the thick layer of covers up to his chin. He had left his drape open. A thin, undulating light distinctly filtered in from the streetlamp at the end of the driveway. With its faint luminescence, he could see The Tao of Spock poster over his desk. David had been a Star Trek fan since he was able to follow television as a baby. Spock was his favorite character. “David, what you hear is not logical. There is no dog in your room or in the house.” David conjectured that Spock would advise him of this. David rolled over once more and fell back asleep.