MYSTERY SEARCH CONTINUES.
The power of repetition is real and should not be written off. Think about it, you SHITS. The more people telling stories about something you weren’t there for, the more real it fucking SEEMS TO YOU. That’s why we’re all afraid of the same shit. That’s why nobody has an interesting ghost story anymore. But like, HELL, man. If that shit is true, where does it end? How much power can repetition give you? Can it give something physical form? Maybe, shit, I don’t know. Nobody does, really, probably will never either. BUTT, does that even really matter? Does the fact that there’s probably not werewolves make them less scary?
What about ghost dogs? In England and shit, there’s always fucking ghost dogs. That probably where people talking about ghost dogs got started a fucking THOUSAND YEARS AGO. But like look at this shit.
“About 7 years ago a friend and I had been driving back home, he dropping me off. We were on a long stretch of open road in the city, a snowy clear night. Visibility was good. He and I were joking, as I remember laughing and turning to say something, and I caught movement in front of us, looked forward , and we both said (expletive)! at the same time, and hit a large dog head on. It was standing directly in front of us, looking at us. I saw it in a flash before we heard and felt the thud of the car hitting it.
I told him we had to go back and check on it. I have seen wounded dogs hit by cars, and wanted to see if it was alive. It took him a minute or so to turn around after cajoling him to go back and look for it. He figured it was dead. At the least I figured we needed to drag it out of the road. It looked to have been a husky, I saw a flash of grey fur. Having the road to ourselves, a clear moonlit night, and a very large open area of land to the right where we hit it, and its size, I figured it would be easy to spot. Besides, we hit it dead on. He was driving a Hinda Civic, and the dog easily stood above the height of the hood. A wounded dog that big would be simple to spot. It wasn’t.
I rolled down the window and sat on the door, perched halfway out of the car so I could see everywhere. There was no sign of it at all. With the distance we had to drive to turn around, and as hard as we hit it, it was unnerving. The distance into the hills was too far for an injured dog to run, and the field was clear, even better, the snow and moon gave plenty of contrast to see clearly. Not a sign of the dog anywhere.
The next morning my friend came back in and said he had found a ‘clear goo’ on his bumper. The strangest part was a few days later he said he was driving in same area at night, and saw the dog again on the same road looking at him as he passed.I have heard of the ‘woman in white’ sightings, but never a ghost dog. Especially never one where two people saw the dog, and felt and heard a solid impact on the vehicle. ”
This is a real story about ghost dogs and if you CLICK THE PICTURE UP THERE, you’ll see a-fucking-nother one. Ask yourself if they’re crazy people you’re seeing. Ask yourself if all the details are there on the page or if you’re imagining them because you’ve heard it all before. Ask yourself if what you’re staring at there is the blood and guts of Black Shuck and Barghest and Pooka, cycling and shedding its dead cells for new ones, and granting the ghost dog a power and an immortal quality none of us will ever fully perceive.
AND FUCK, MAN. CLICK. GOOD BOY. (GIRLS TOO, DAMN). YOU GET A TREAT.