Read Online Loss, a paranormal thriller by Glen Krisch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Glen Krisch
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With Bizzy still barking a mile a minute, she wondered if her legs would hold her up or if she might vomit.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that an empty wine bottle and a partial second had joined the empty pint on the end table. Bizzy ran into the great room and nudged Angie's ankle with her cold nose, then scampered off into the kitchen again.
Thinking back, in the jumble of wine, whiskey and pills, she did remember putting the dog out. Bizzy never had to go out in the middle of the night. Besides, the little fluff ball was afraid of the dark, so much so that she would hold off until morning instead of relieving a painfully full bladder in the dark. Even inside, she would be a panting bundle of nerves if there wasn't at least a nightlight plugged into the outlet near her dog bed in the kitchen.
"I'm coming. Just hold your horses. I'm not in the mood to clean your piddle off the floor."
Bizzy was frantically pawing the door when Angie entered the kitchen.
"Okay, okay, I'm here."
Angie unlocked the door and slid it open on its track. Normally she wouldn't let Bizzy out without her tether, but with the dog's fear of the dark she figured there was no risk of her running off. Plus, the whole idea of bending over, reaching out to find the metal clasp, with how her head was pounding...
Bizzy dashed out into the grass and squatted to pee. Before she could ever be finished, the little dog stood at attention, and peering off into the dark woods, let out three sharp barks. She took a lunging stride forward, both paws slamming into the dead turf, and let out the throatiest growl the seven-pounder could muster.
"Come here, girl. It's okay... just a squirrel." Angie didn't sound confident, even to her still half-drunk self, and she felt even less so. Her groggy eyes panned the woods. The details blurred and started to spin, the liquor still not clear of her system.
"Bizzy. Come here. Now!" Hoping to sound forceful, she only succeeded in making Bizzy glance at her over her shoulder. But then a noise came from the woods from the direction that had so captured Bizzy's attention
A breaking twig.
Another snap followed the first like an echo. No, not like an echo. Like footsteps.
Bizzy let out a shrill bark and sprinted off into the darkness, her fear be damned.
"Bizzy! Bizzy, come back here!" Her voice sounded so small uttered into the vastness of the woods. Hassled footsteps retreated away from the house, away from Bizzy. Angie could still hear the dog's panting, an occasional yipping bark, but the sounds were quieting.
Angie hurriedly slipped on the hiking boots she kept by the back door, not bothering with the laces, then rushed outside, trailing the tiny paw prints in the newly falling snow. She was unwilling to let the last dear thing in her life slip through her fingers.
"Bizzy! Bizzy, please, come back!" Angie called out, listened, then called out again. She'd hear Bizzy's familiar bark off to the right, then after a few minutes charging after it, heard a phantom bark in the opposite direction. After an hour of zigzagging deeper into the woods, backtracking and trudging off yet deeper into the snowy night, Angie realized that not only could she no longer hear Bizzy, but that she was also totally lost.
The warmth provided by drunkenness had long since disappeared. Packed snow gathered at her ankles inside her untied boots. She had washed down her first pills of the evening while still wearing what she had worn in her failed attempt to drive in to work: khaki slacks and a thin blue blouse. And in that inadequate clothing, her skin prickled with cold, numbness advancing from one sector of her body to the next. It clouded her judgment, even more so than her earlier alcohol and pill dinner.
At least the moon was still high in the sky, a familiar face peeking above the skeletal trees. She tried to concentrate, trying to remember
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that an empty wine bottle and a partial second had joined the empty pint on the end table. Bizzy ran into the great room and nudged Angie's ankle with her cold nose, then scampered off into the kitchen again.
Thinking back, in the jumble of wine, whiskey and pills, she did remember putting the dog out. Bizzy never had to go out in the middle of the night. Besides, the little fluff ball was afraid of the dark, so much so that she would hold off until morning instead of relieving a painfully full bladder in the dark. Even inside, she would be a panting bundle of nerves if there wasn't at least a nightlight plugged into the outlet near her dog bed in the kitchen.
"I'm coming. Just hold your horses. I'm not in the mood to clean your piddle off the floor."
Bizzy was frantically pawing the door when Angie entered the kitchen.
"Okay, okay, I'm here."
Angie unlocked the door and slid it open on its track. Normally she wouldn't let Bizzy out without her tether, but with the dog's fear of the dark she figured there was no risk of her running off. Plus, the whole idea of bending over, reaching out to find the metal clasp, with how her head was pounding...
Bizzy dashed out into the grass and squatted to pee. Before she could ever be finished, the little dog stood at attention, and peering off into the dark woods, let out three sharp barks. She took a lunging stride forward, both paws slamming into the dead turf, and let out the throatiest growl the seven-pounder could muster.
"Come here, girl. It's okay... just a squirrel." Angie didn't sound confident, even to her still half-drunk self, and she felt even less so. Her groggy eyes panned the woods. The details blurred and started to spin, the liquor still not clear of her system.
"Bizzy. Come here. Now!" Hoping to sound forceful, she only succeeded in making Bizzy glance at her over her shoulder. But then a noise came from the woods from the direction that had so captured Bizzy's attention
A breaking twig.
Another snap followed the first like an echo. No, not like an echo. Like footsteps.
Bizzy let out a shrill bark and sprinted off into the darkness, her fear be damned.
"Bizzy! Bizzy, come back here!" Her voice sounded so small uttered into the vastness of the woods. Hassled footsteps retreated away from the house, away from Bizzy. Angie could still hear the dog's panting, an occasional yipping bark, but the sounds were quieting.
Angie hurriedly slipped on the hiking boots she kept by the back door, not bothering with the laces, then rushed outside, trailing the tiny paw prints in the newly falling snow. She was unwilling to let the last dear thing in her life slip through her fingers.
"Bizzy! Bizzy, please, come back!" Angie called out, listened, then called out again. She'd hear Bizzy's familiar bark off to the right, then after a few minutes charging after it, heard a phantom bark in the opposite direction. After an hour of zigzagging deeper into the woods, backtracking and trudging off yet deeper into the snowy night, Angie realized that not only could she no longer hear Bizzy, but that she was also totally lost.
The warmth provided by drunkenness had long since disappeared. Packed snow gathered at her ankles inside her untied boots. She had washed down her first pills of the evening while still wearing what she had worn in her failed attempt to drive in to work: khaki slacks and a thin blue blouse. And in that inadequate clothing, her skin prickled with cold, numbness advancing from one sector of her body to the next. It clouded her judgment, even more so than her earlier alcohol and pill dinner.
At least the moon was still high in the sky, a familiar face peeking above the skeletal trees. She tried to concentrate, trying to remember
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