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Description
Chapter 1
Dog's Day Out

The night was cold and dark, hardly any stars shone at all. A dark, dreary building stood on a hill overlooking a small town. No lights brighten the lawn and vines run rampant, weeds choke otherwise dead gardens. Dark looking critters lurk in the tall grass, which looks like it hasn’t been cut in ages. A single light shines through a grimy window, dancing with the flame from the candle that casts shadows across the lawn. The inside of the building is very messy; the owner must not have cleaned it in months. Bottles and beakers litter many lab tables; various mysterious concoctions inhabit shelves all along all four walls. A man is hunched over notes and chemical formulas, as well as several runes and charts. He is wearing a lab coat which is badly stained, it is unclear whether it is blood or some other chemical; either way it does not bode well. His face is worn with worry and work, figure bent but his eyes still have a spark of life left in them.

The man mixes various chemicals quickly yet deftly, observing their reaction. His face lights up and he smiles as he writes down a complex formula, readying a syringe. He readies another batch of the deathly black formula and fills the syringe with the solution. He walks over to a cage, holding the syringe with the needle pointed up. Inside the cage lays a dog, five days deceased. The man crouches down and opens the cage slowly sticking the needle into the dog just under the neck. Suddenly the phone rings and he jolts upright, placing the needle on a nearby shelf. He closes the door and stands up, sleeve catching on the latch. His shirt tears audibly, but only a little and he yanks it free. “Ow! Stupid door…” He continues to his desk and leans against it, picking up the receiver. “Hello, Victor speaking how may I help you?” He seems engrossed in the conversation, his back to the cage where the dog is held. As he continues to talk he doesn’t notice as the cage door slowly starts to swing open, seemingly of its own accord.

Victor places the phone back on the desk and shuffles through the various clutter on his desk for paper and a pencil. Hearing a deep guttural growling sound, whirling around to face a sight that made his blood run cold. The dog stood before him, not quite dead but not quite alive either. It looks disheveled and gnarly in places, its greasy black fur raised in aggression. The dog lunges at Victor, tearing at his throat with still white fangs. With one shrill gurgled scream he falls over as the dog mauls him, hand clawing at the air in his dying attempts of escape. A moment later all that is left is bloody footprints and a mangled corpse, a pool of blood soon covers the floor. A broken window with a panoramic view of the town below shows the dog, howling at the full moon before setting out in search of warmer blood.

Description
Chapter 1
Dog's Day Out

The night was cold and dark, hardly any stars shone at all. A dark, dreary building stood on a hill overlooking a small town. No lights brighten the lawn and vines run rampant, weeds choke otherwise dead gardens. Dark looking critters lurk in the tall grass, which looks like it hasn’t been cut in ages. A single light shines through a grimy window, dancing with the flame from the candle that casts shadows across the lawn. The inside of the building is very messy; the owner must not have cleaned it in months. Bottles and beakers litter many lab tables; various mysterious concoctions inhabit shelves all along all four walls. A man is hunched over notes and chemical formulas, as well as several runes and charts. He is wearing a lab coat which is badly stained, it is unclear whether it is blood or some other chemical; either way it does not bode well. His face is worn with worry and work, figure bent but his eyes still have a spark of life left in them.

The man mixes various chemicals quickly yet deftly, observing their reaction. His face lights up and he smiles as he writes down a complex formula, readying a syringe. He readies another batch of the deathly black formula and fills the syringe with the solution. He walks over to a cage, holding the syringe with the needle pointed up. Inside the cage lays a dog, five days deceased. The man crouches down and opens the cage slowly sticking the needle into the dog just under the neck. Suddenly the phone rings and he jolts upright, placing the needle on a nearby shelf. He closes the door and stands up, sleeve catching on the latch. His shirt tears audibly, but only a little and he yanks it free. “Ow! Stupid door…” He continues to his desk and leans against it, picking up the receiver. “Hello, Victor speaking how may I help you?” He seems engrossed in the conversation, his back to the cage where the dog is held. As he continues to talk he doesn’t notice as the cage door slowly starts to swing open, seemingly of its own accord.

Victor places the phone back on the desk and shuffles through the various clutter on his desk for paper and a pencil. Hearing a deep guttural growling sound, whirling around to face a sight that made his blood run cold. The dog stood before him, not quite dead but not quite alive either. It looks disheveled and gnarly in places, its greasy black fur raised in aggression. The dog lunges at Victor, tearing at his throat with still white fangs. With one shrill gurgled scream he falls over as the dog mauls him, hand clawing at the air in his dying attempts of escape. A moment later all that is left is bloody footprints and a mangled corpse, a pool of blood soon covers the floor. A broken window with a panoramic view of the town below shows the dog, howling at the full moon before setting out in search of warmer blood.