Good Evening. My name is Monsieur Macabre,
and I am an escaped patient from the St.Katherine
mental ward. I have a disturbing tale to tell if you
dare to listen. It’s about a caring, faithful dog
named Rose who was my companion for many
happy years. This is the story of how she died.

Rose was a fast runner and loved to chase things:
cars, squirrels, even ants scampering across the
ground. She would rarely catch anything, but when
she did, she would hold it only for a second before
letting the poor creature go. Rose only liked the
thrill of the chase and never meant to hurt other
animals. One day I heard her barking in the backyard
where she was tied to a tree. The bark was unusual
in that it had a hint of fear reminiscent of scratching
against glass, something I never heard in Rose’s voice
before. I went outside to see if she was ok, but she
quieted instantly and seemed to be fine. Just spooked
by a bird, I thought.

The very next evening, I let Rose out to run around the
foggy backyard. Surprisingly, as soon as I opened the
door, she sprinted away from me and ran deep into the
murky woods adjacent to my yard, chasing what looked
like a very large squirrel.

I quickly followed her into the woods, yelling her name
and whistling. Despite their close proximity to my home,
I hadn’t been into these woods much. They were eerily dark
and shadowy, and they emitted the kinds of noises that come
from woods in the movies. The neighborhood kids had
nicknamed them “Terror Woods”. I was not happy that
Rose had made me follow her into them.
As I stepped over a branch, still calling Rose’s name,
I stopped at a horrific sight: a rabbit, decapitated, lying
on the ground in the leaves. I know this should be expected
in the wild: animals hunt and eat. But the smoothness of the
cut on the rabbit’s throat made me uneasy.

I moved on, faster and deeper into Terror Woods, calling
frantically for Rose. As I approached a clearing, I could smell
an overwhelming scent of moth balls, which I thought was
strange. Then I saw another mangled animal: a bird’s head
and feet, lying in a pile as if carefully placed.
I was moving faster now, and screaming louder, hoping that
the volume of my voice would keep away whatever secrets the
forest held. Instantly, I came across my third shock of the evening:
again, placed purposefully in a pile, were the parts of a squirrel,
missing its leg.

I was terrified at the animals I found, cut up and arranged in the
woods, and desperately wanted to find Rose and bring her home
to safety. As I was standing in a clearing, turning frantically
deciding where to go, I heard her bark. That same fearful bark
I had heard the day before.
I ran towards her call, not even thinking about my own safety.
When I came closer, I saw a scene that I cannot (or will not - EVER)
forget: gathered together near a tree were a multitude of animals,
but not normal forest animals.

They were Frankenstein beasts built out of mismatched parts.
There was a crow-cat. There was a snake with furry legs. I saw
a bluebird hanging from the tree with a possum tail. And in the
middle of them all was a beast who commanded his presence as
if he was their leader.
Standing upright and slumped, it had the head of a rabbit, the
body of a wolf, the leg of a squirrel, and creepy hands with
mismatched fingers. It looked fierce and evil, with stitches
connecting his mangled parts, and eyes that were not from
this world.

Next to it was a smaller monster, who was holding my precious
dog Rose tightly. This animal had lava oozing out of his
sloppily-stitched rag doll body. The leader of the pitiful group
stared straight at me and said, in the voice of a starving old man,
“My name is Valleyslice. I need four good strong legs… and it looks
like I’ve found them.”

THE END