Dream Time: The Keeper of the Hounds

This is a recounting of a recent dream. I had dreamed that I was keeping these animals, like dogs but hairless and alien in form. I’m sure it was brought on by the dog sitting I was doing. I found that I just wanted to get the image of the Keeper of the Hounds sitting, leaning against a tree, and watching his pets burrow into the earth.


In the shadows behind the brightly lit convenience store, a new born killer dropped his knife. Scrambling to his feet, he pushed at the body of his victim, hoping that she was still alive. He was reluctant to take the mantle of a murderer; he wasn’t even sure how to hide a body. A throaty growl poured into his ears, sending prickles down his arms and up his spine. Shapes prowled in the darkness, breathing heavily and growling low.

“No matter what you say, I will not call them off.” said the Keeper of the Hounds, his voice distorted by a respirator, his eyes shielded by dark goggles. “We’ve seen what you’ve done, and we’ve deemed it wrong.” The murderer stepped backward, stopping short of a wall.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t planned, she just…” the murderer reached for the right words, though the growling of the shapes obfuscated in the shadows pulled each word away from him. “I needed the money for food, I swear it!”

“We don’t care.” said the Keeper of the Hounds. With a flick of his wrist, the hounds flowed from the darkness, hissing and barking. The murderer’s scream was trapped in his throat; the hounds tore and bit at his flesh. Their keeper watched, a smile obscured behind his respirator. “Eat it all.” he said, his voice passionate less.

In minutes, the blood was gone and not even a bone remained. The Keeper of the Hounds patted one of his pets on its furless head. “We can go home now.” he said softly, and as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. Passing through shadows, the hounds and their keeper found their sanctuary; a gnarled tree secreted deep in the wilderness. The hounds began to dig back into their burrows, and their keeper sat, leaning against the tree.

“Your leaves have turned quickly,” he said to the tree, which listened silently. “Winter is coming soon, and we will sleep.” The Keeper of the Hounds sighed, crossing his arms.


About harrylthompsonjr

I'm a writer, a photographer, and a lover of role playing games. I've moved my blog to wordpress in hopes of actually getting some feedback. We'll see :)
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