Big Black Dog

In a small a chapel on a hillside in Tennessee, a congregation meets for a Sunday night service. The pews are half full with people who have worried looks on their faces. The preacher stands before them, reciting a sermon he had prepared the week before, ending with the words, “in the name of God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.” The people repeat those sacred words after him. The rain pounds hard on the metal roof of the church. The wind hums a sounds like whispering devils echoing down the aisle. They light candles one after the other as they walk down the aisle to leave the church, preparing themselves to walk out the door and into a world of burden. As one man stands up to walk down the aisle, a gust of wind blows open the double doors to the chapel and blows out the candles the faithful had lit. A flash of lightning glows like hot embers in a fireplace. The man’s hat blows off his head and lands on the floor.

As the man bends down to pick his hat up off the ground, he looks up to see a figure standing before him. The crowd grows silent as they all lay eyes on a big black dog standing in the open doorway. It's panting is slow and it's wet fur shines like jet black steel. Women hide their children behind them. Frightened and stunned, the room goes silent. All eyes are fixated on the beast as if it is death incarnate, the Grim Reaper himself on all fours. The silence is broken by a long desperate howl from the beast. Like a demon, it lunges forward and bites the man on the floor picking up his hat. The people scream as they hear the sound of tearing flesh and the crunching of bones. The dog has the lifeless man in it's grip, shaking him around like a child shaking a snow-globe. The blood flows down the aisle and under the feet of the frightened people. They watch in horror as it drops the man's limp body and runs down the aisle toward them.

The doors slam shut behind the beast, sealing the congregants within their own doom. The beast smiles a sinister grin, it’s teeth dripping with gore. It attacks one person after another, tearing their very souls from their bodies. It howls with delight as it devours the flesh of the faithful. The preacher runs behind the podium and, in desperation, begins to pray. On his knees, he recites passages from the holy book trying to drown out the terrible sounds coming from the congregation, the very souls he had sworn to save. He hears the heavy paws of the beast growing closer to him, the floorboards creaking with every step that it takes. The dog's panting grows louder and louder behind him to where he can feel the heat of it's dewey breath on his neck.

Silence returns to the church. The preacher stands up and looks over his podium. The church is empty. No bodies and no blood. The beast is gone and so is his lifeless congregation. He looks around confused and walks down the aisle to look for the horrors he had just witnessed. Was it all a dream? Or a test of faith? He looks up at a stained glass window and sees the rain running down like tears on Mother Mary’s face. He catches his breath and returns to preparing his sermon. He picks up a pen and writes his closing words, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” As he picks up his coat and walks to the door he hears in the distance a gruesome sound, a howl, the call of the big black dog.