HOMECOMING
Novel Excerpt
I’ve known many dogs that get anxious when Mother Nature gets hostile, but Bowser’s always taken it in stride. The old boy has
always been somewhat of an enigma in that regard. He loves water. Flashback: Bea and Casper’s pond. I’ve never had a
problem giving him a bath, unless you count his penchant for sampling the shampoo. I wasn’t sure whether or not to call the vet
when he started burping tiny bubbles for the first time, but it did make his breath sweeter. But as much as he loves to jump into
water—the slimier the better—raindrops freak him right out. He won’t go anywhere near a sprinkler and the slightest drizzle gives
him heart palpitations.
Thunder, on the other hand, doesn’t faze him one bit. Uncle Steve’s a closet pyromaniac, May Two-Four his Christmas Eve.
Every year on Victoria’s birthday, he’d light up snakes and sparklers while Bowser sprawled across the front lawn cool as a
cucumber and waited for someone as bored as he was to come by and give him a belly rub. It was this relaxed attitude toward
bad weather and loud noises that convinced me more than anything else that something bizarre, maybe even paranormal, was
going on the other night.
All these things I knew, and therefore I should have paid closer attention to the old boy and what he was doing. Instead I fumed
over Philip and his know-it-all attitude. How was it that he could embarrass me, make fun of things he didn’t witness, accuse me
of being inebriated and then turn around and act like the do-gooder boy scout, clearing plates and tidying up and leaving me to
play the ignorant ass who eats then runs? And why did I run? I had half a mind to turn around. I could scrape plates and load a
dishwasher with the best of them. At the junction of Highway 84 and Third Line I stopped and put the car in park. I tried to stamp
my feet but my knees banged the steering wheel. Stupid car! I slapped the wheel a few times then gripped it in both hands,
shook it and let out an aggravated scream.
Bowser let out a yelp and tried to squeeze his torso underneath the dashboard. I gave him a reassuring pat on the head.
“Momma’s just having a wee meltdown, Baby Bear.” I leaned over to meet him snout to nose and wound up with a wet tongue up
my right nostril for my trouble. I rubbed the silky fur under his chin and realized while my tantrum hadn’t solved anything, the burst
of aggression had at least made me feel a little better. I checked my mirrors and put the car back in drive.
Further down the road Bowser shifted from one paw to the other, wearing out the upholstery in the passenger seat. A fork of
lightening lit up the sky in the distance. I counted to twelve before I heard the rumble. I thought of Maggie’s assurances that Otto's
g host only came around during thunderstorms and that, combined with Bowser’s antsy behaviour, triggered a sickening
sensation in the pit of my stomach.
The sprinkle of rain that fell steadily on the windshield was still light enough that I could keep my window open a crack. The night
air felt strange; ripe with electricity. Another explosion of light appeared a little to my right. I slowed my breathing and began to
count. One, two, three, four, five. I heard the rumble seconds before the headlights appeared and knew it wasn’t the welcome
sound of thunder. The truck was back. Somehow it had crept up behind me noiselessly, and was suddenly right on my tail.
Unlike the other night, the road was still dry. I didn’t hesitate. I pressed my foot on the pedal until it reached the floor. Beside me
Bowser whimpered, a sound almost inaudible, so light in tone it could have been the coo of a dove. I kept my arms rigid on the
steering wheel and my eyes peeled on the gravel under my headlights, too scared to lift them for the millisecond needed to check
the rear view mirror. Yet I knew he was there, and I knew he was gaining.
Half a kilometre from the farm was a gnarled old tree, long dead but alive with twisted branches. In daylight it was full of
character. As I sped past it in the dark, another bolt of lightening flickered behind it, and the old oak’s shadow stretched across
the hood. Branches became fingers that shivered through the windshield and reached for my throat. I choked back a scream as
Bowser leapt between the bucket seats into the rear of the car. The unexpected touch of fur on my bare arm sent me over the
edge. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Any distance I had gained on the phantom pick-up was lost. I looked into
the mirror in time to watch my eyes grow wide with panic, too late to brace myself for the impact.
Cold air sliced through me and for a moment I felt like cold metal had pierced my spine. Had I been split in two? I opened my
eyes to see my hands still on the wheel, and the truck’s tailgate bounding ahead on the uneven road.
I struggled to bring my breathing under control, a task made much easier after I retrieved my lungs from the dashboard and placed
them back inside my chest. Bowser barked and the sound led me to believe the danger had passed. Right through my car and
both our bodies, but passed nonetheless.
I turned to put a not-so-steady hand on his back. He stood on the backseat, hackles raised, his attention focused on the glow
emanating behind us. I peered into the glare as dread washed over me. The truck was behind us.
Time stood still. Every sound was sharper, clearer. My mouth was dry, my throat parched as though I’d been in the desert for
days while ice trickled down my spine. Metal groaned as the driver’s door opened. A thud as boots landed on the dusty road.
The door slammed shut by unseen hands. And then the footsteps, slow and sure, prowled toward me.
Bowser sat still, his brows and ears lifted to take in every sight and every sound. The footsteps stopped outside my door but I
dared not turn around. My rib cage strained to contain my pounding heart. Even my breathing slowed as the world began to slip
away from me. Too late I thought to spin around and slam my fist down on the lock. The door handle lifted, humid air rushed in,
and I froze, the weight of the phantom’s hand on my shoulder.
My ears filled with the far away echo of water as it ebbed and flowed. Shades of grey and black hovered in my peripheral vision.
Otto. I could have fought to stay above the surface, but it seemed so much easier to let the darkness claim me. I slid slowly into
the warm void.
Novel Excerpt
I’ve known many dogs that get anxious when Mother Nature gets hostile, but Bowser’s always taken it in stride. The old boy has
always been somewhat of an enigma in that regard. He loves water. Flashback: Bea and Casper’s pond. I’ve never had a
problem giving him a bath, unless you count his penchant for sampling the shampoo. I wasn’t sure whether or not to call the vet
when he started burping tiny bubbles for the first time, but it did make his breath sweeter. But as much as he loves to jump into
water—the slimier the better—raindrops freak him right out. He won’t go anywhere near a sprinkler and the slightest drizzle gives
him heart palpitations.
Thunder, on the other hand, doesn’t faze him one bit. Uncle Steve’s a closet pyromaniac, May Two-Four his Christmas Eve.
Every year on Victoria’s birthday, he’d light up snakes and sparklers while Bowser sprawled across the front lawn cool as a
cucumber and waited for someone as bored as he was to come by and give him a belly rub. It was this relaxed attitude toward
bad weather and loud noises that convinced me more than anything else that something bizarre, maybe even paranormal, was
going on the other night.
All these things I knew, and therefore I should have paid closer attention to the old boy and what he was doing. Instead I fumed
over Philip and his know-it-all attitude. How was it that he could embarrass me, make fun of things he didn’t witness, accuse me
of being inebriated and then turn around and act like the do-gooder boy scout, clearing plates and tidying up and leaving me to
play the ignorant ass who eats then runs? And why did I run? I had half a mind to turn around. I could scrape plates and load a
dishwasher with the best of them. At the junction of Highway 84 and Third Line I stopped and put the car in park. I tried to stamp
my feet but my knees banged the steering wheel. Stupid car! I slapped the wheel a few times then gripped it in both hands,
shook it and let out an aggravated scream.
Bowser let out a yelp and tried to squeeze his torso underneath the dashboard. I gave him a reassuring pat on the head.
“Momma’s just having a wee meltdown, Baby Bear.” I leaned over to meet him snout to nose and wound up with a wet tongue up
my right nostril for my trouble. I rubbed the silky fur under his chin and realized while my tantrum hadn’t solved anything, the burst
of aggression had at least made me feel a little better. I checked my mirrors and put the car back in drive.
Further down the road Bowser shifted from one paw to the other, wearing out the upholstery in the passenger seat. A fork of
lightening lit up the sky in the distance. I counted to twelve before I heard the rumble. I thought of Maggie’s assurances that Otto's
g host only came around during thunderstorms and that, combined with Bowser’s antsy behaviour, triggered a sickening
sensation in the pit of my stomach.
The sprinkle of rain that fell steadily on the windshield was still light enough that I could keep my window open a crack. The night
air felt strange; ripe with electricity. Another explosion of light appeared a little to my right. I slowed my breathing and began to
count. One, two, three, four, five. I heard the rumble seconds before the headlights appeared and knew it wasn’t the welcome
sound of thunder. The truck was back. Somehow it had crept up behind me noiselessly, and was suddenly right on my tail.
Unlike the other night, the road was still dry. I didn’t hesitate. I pressed my foot on the pedal until it reached the floor. Beside me
Bowser whimpered, a sound almost inaudible, so light in tone it could have been the coo of a dove. I kept my arms rigid on the
steering wheel and my eyes peeled on the gravel under my headlights, too scared to lift them for the millisecond needed to check
the rear view mirror. Yet I knew he was there, and I knew he was gaining.
Half a kilometre from the farm was a gnarled old tree, long dead but alive with twisted branches. In daylight it was full of
character. As I sped past it in the dark, another bolt of lightening flickered behind it, and the old oak’s shadow stretched across
the hood. Branches became fingers that shivered through the windshield and reached for my throat. I choked back a scream as
Bowser leapt between the bucket seats into the rear of the car. The unexpected touch of fur on my bare arm sent me over the
edge. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Any distance I had gained on the phantom pick-up was lost. I looked into
the mirror in time to watch my eyes grow wide with panic, too late to brace myself for the impact.
Cold air sliced through me and for a moment I felt like cold metal had pierced my spine. Had I been split in two? I opened my
eyes to see my hands still on the wheel, and the truck’s tailgate bounding ahead on the uneven road.
I struggled to bring my breathing under control, a task made much easier after I retrieved my lungs from the dashboard and placed
them back inside my chest. Bowser barked and the sound led me to believe the danger had passed. Right through my car and
both our bodies, but passed nonetheless.
I turned to put a not-so-steady hand on his back. He stood on the backseat, hackles raised, his attention focused on the glow
emanating behind us. I peered into the glare as dread washed over me. The truck was behind us.
Time stood still. Every sound was sharper, clearer. My mouth was dry, my throat parched as though I’d been in the desert for
days while ice trickled down my spine. Metal groaned as the driver’s door opened. A thud as boots landed on the dusty road.
The door slammed shut by unseen hands. And then the footsteps, slow and sure, prowled toward me.
Bowser sat still, his brows and ears lifted to take in every sight and every sound. The footsteps stopped outside my door but I
dared not turn around. My rib cage strained to contain my pounding heart. Even my breathing slowed as the world began to slip
away from me. Too late I thought to spin around and slam my fist down on the lock. The door handle lifted, humid air rushed in,
and I froze, the weight of the phantom’s hand on my shoulder.
My ears filled with the far away echo of water as it ebbed and flowed. Shades of grey and black hovered in my peripheral vision.
Otto. I could have fought to stay above the surface, but it seemed so much easier to let the darkness claim me. I slid slowly into
the warm void.
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
