Quiet Country Nights

This one started with a very simple thought. What if you're home alone at night, sleeping with your window open because the air is cool and fresh and wonderful...and you hear someone—or something—walking through the leaves outside? That's it. That's the beginning. Because if you live in the country, there are plenty of perfectly innocent explanations for a sound like that. A deer. A coyote. A raccoon.

But what if you can't? What if the sound is too deliberate? Crunch. Pause. Crunch. Pause. And suddenly you're lying there in the dark, listening to something that seems to be taking its time getting closer. I've always thought there was something slightly unsettling about nighttime sounds that you can’t readily identify. At night, your imagination gets to participate. And mine has always been very willing to participate.

And suddenly you're wide awake. I wanted to play with that uncertainty. Not knowing is often scarier than knowing. And then I added the Dogman stories because, well...of course I did. Belief isn't always necessary for fear.

You don't have to believe in the Dogman to lie awake listening to something walking through the leaves outside your window. You don't have to believe in monsters. You just have to hear something you can't explain. And if you're alone? Well... then every possibility gets a little louder.

The older I get, the more I appreciate that kind of horror. Nothing has to jump out. Nothing has to chase you through the woods.

Sometimes all you need is a dark bedroom, an open window, a quiet country road...and the unmistakable sound of footsteps where there shouldn't be any.

Something is walking through the leaves.

You just don't know what it is.

Sleep well.