One only knows the real cold when one feels a chill in one’s soul. For the first time, Barry felt a real shiver.

He raised his hand with the torch still in it, a red mark on his arm from Grifter’s escape.

There was nothing at his side or behind him, only the shadow in front of the dog trying to eat it.

Barry looked a little longer, distracting him from the heat on his ear.

The mouth grew more, singing another sigh, and Barry felt real fear.

“Grift, come on boy,” Barry said, wanting to run down the stairs to his sister’s arms.

He tried to wave his arm to call over the dog.

The torch, still in his hand, touched his ear.

“Ah!” Barry shouted, pulling his hand away.

The shadow changed again, three eyes, then two, to one, but shadows had none.

It grew in the torchlight as it flew around, laying over the dog.

Barry’s foot stepped back, his foot finding a patch of mud.

He wanted to run forward, grab his little friend, and turn to run, but it was the mud his pup brought in that was his downfall. Not truly, just a slip.

But the stairs were not kind. When compared the Giselle, Barry was not quick.

Bang, bunk bunk bunk.

The railing only saved him from falling over the edge, not from the vertical descent.

I should go back up, I can leave little Grift. Barry thought before he was back upright, his knee in his own face, the torch’s hot head on his chest.

He leaped up, not to his feet but around to his ass, pushing the torch forward while he slide back. His legs kicking fast.

His head hit the wall right next to the door.

The torch twirled on the floor. From that angle, even though he was so far back, he could see up the stairs.

The torch lighting the top every third second on a count of three.

A shadow was there on the top stair before the turn.

Six arms, then none, last on four.

The torch stayed, with luck aiming up, four arms turned the legs as it hunched forward.

A dog in shape but it was not Grifter, it was a real hound with sharp ears and flesh for a body.

Tall, still, now muscular with razor teeth, and two eyes, one always on the light.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Its tongue flapped out, rolling down the stairs, bouncing at each step.

More tongues grew from its back and a tail grew to a whip.

It was just a shadow, but Barry saw what he saw.

Torch in hand, he rolled and ran.

Giselle was not in the dining room or living room to his right; she did not come up the stairs. The shadow was not hers; She was no expert in shadow mimicry, so to the kitchen Barry ran.

His run was more of a crawl, too scared to stand, thinking he would fall.

He rolled at the end of the hall like Grifter doing his favorite trick, other than shaking his paw.

Barry saw his sister in the light of the windows.

He reached for the cupboards at his side, pulling himself up by the handles of the kitchen drawers.

“Sis, we gotta go!” Barry said.

Giselle lifted her head from the books she was reading.

Not understanding why her little brother was in such a panic.

She heard the noise. In truth, it was nothing new. It was Barry, after all; Though she was a little annoyed that Grifter barked.

“Did you see someone here or something?” She asked, looking back down at the book.

“No, there is something in this place.” He said.

She looked up again. He was stumbling around like he had a drink, using the edge of the sink to support him.

A great light from the big window showed the backyard and the moon highlighting the shock on his face.

“What’s wrong? Did you find Grifter?” She asked, pulling down the book to below her chin.

Her voice was a kind of song, a home to Barry. She had no panic; she did know the need for it. Barry was a little jumpy. It was nothing new.

The moon was electric, and the kitchen window seemed larger the closer Barry got to his sister.

He shoved his hand forward in his rush. The torch slipping free, rolling on the ground. Its light was bright and easy to find. The torch at the Doctor’s door was not cheap, lasting long with a little gas.

Barry’s shadow followed behind him, and his sisters' behind her reached across the kitchen.

His hand palms on her on her shoulder.

The force of his fear made her close the book—she was not quite done; she wanted to read the back few pages; at least get an understanding of the cover.

Giselle squeezes the book tight, her thumb still on the pages.

Her hand caught the counter, a wooden set in the room’s center, pressing more pressure on her thumb.

She put her eyes on her, sharp and tired; she was about to scream ‘dumb’.

“We have to get out of here, there is something in this house!” Barry said.

He left Giselle wordless, her face going soft.

She believed his words until he dashed behind her, they both heard a noise, a shaking, and a ring.

Barry pulled his hands away, covering his chest as he got behind Giselle.

His stature lowered as he walked backward, finding the wall that was not far from his sister’s back.

Giselle released the book now that she had a chance, but the foot that was moving as she leaned over on the counter found something.

A paint can half empty, a second Bong! Filled the room as the ringing from the hall continued.

Barry jumped hard, his back hitting the wall that sounded like a drum. He tried to back away more, but couldn’t. “No.” He said, not believe the reality.

His sister simply watched, groaning about her thumb and foot.

The source of the ringing came around the corner, the tapping of small feet scratching the floor following.

It entered the light, Grifter, the leaf-dog with his paws painted red. The little dog left paw prints, but that was nothing new. It was the color that made Barry push his head on the wall at his back.

The dog stopped moving after walking into the light, his colored tags shining just a bit of moonlight.

From the ceiling, it crawls behind the pup.

It was a blob. Then it took forming, changing as it grew, a shadow in the light.

Four arms grew, each with a hand four clawed. It grabbed the light where it could, crawling on the ceiling and walls.

Two arms released, and it fell before the window in a slow descent, with two legs growing.

It was now a man before the two kids, their dog at his side.

The shadow turned his head, as if curious about the world.

Barry moved back, and as he reached out a hand, he snapped, trying to call Grifter over; the dogs stepping forward.

Only to let out one piercing bark in the silence.

Giselle was stunned by what she saw, her foot finding a path behind the paint can she was prepared to leave, forgetting his place existed. She was prepared to forget about it before.

The shadow looked at the dog at its side, its head-turning harder as it fell to all fours. Its teeth grew to be railroad spikes inside a snouted face and talon-like claws.

Shadows did not have features, yet they saw what they saw.

A giant beast, a dog of some type, stood beside their puppy, their pet.

It began to bark while walking forward.

Barry could not hold himself any longer. He turned and ran as hard as he could.

The world never forgot he was clumsy and felt the need to remind him.

He turned and ran towards the torch in the dining room connected to the kitchen by an archway.

Barry slipped and fell, finding his shoulder slamming the display he first looked at when he arrived. The picture he was looking at fell, slamming on the ground along with a dozen other things.

The display slid forward, hitting the far wall. The torch slipped away from his hand as he winced.

His sister was at his side faster than he ever knew, trying to get him to his feet; no luck.

“Useless at a time like this, come on Barry!” she said, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but her heart was out of her chest in panic. A feeling she had only ever felt twice; Her parents passing, and the news of the Doctor’s death.

The torch faced the shadow, its stature more defined, sandwiched between two lights. It stood, no longer flat as shadows were.

Barry kicked his feet as he got to a crouch. The torch spun towards them and, as he got taller, Barry noticed the wall was strange.

There was a seam along his hand’s path and a little knob near his eye.

He pushed it, and it opened.

“We can go in here,” Barry said.

His words were useless as Gisselle had already acted. The moment she saw the opening swing, her brother was thrown beyond the door’s passage.

She followed, slamming the door close with her shoulder.

They had no time to breathe and Barry was on the floor again; they were at the top of a staircase, one that did not exist before.

And what little breath that had was being stolen.

“Who is there? Who snuck down into the basement?” A voice from beyond the door said.

The voice was of the deceased Doctor Arthur Fletch.