“I don’t know what was in there. There’s something in there that’s not natural!” Nat backed up against the wall at the corner where it met the hall.
“Like a large dog?” Deck pulled the blankets closer around him.
“Maybe, I guess, why?”
“Che-check the mirror, quick,” Deck pressed him. Nat picked up his mother’s small antique hand mirror lying on the table next to him. His forest green irises and round black pupils no longer existed. Radioactive lime green with a slit of black in the center of them. His temples throbbed. Pressure in the back of his head made him see spots. Suddenly, what stared back at him was the normal Nat McCormick that had always been there. Reddish blonde shag hair that got in his green eyes was still the same, but the facial structure had shifted. Something was off, but subtly so.
He looked up from the mirror, glaring at Deck. Something was amiss with him too. Maybe he was imagining it. It was almost primal, animalistic.
“What’s going on?” Nat hissed past another cruel throb. He glanced up as a sudden sharp ringing permeated his ears, the sound breaking at his eardrums like shattering glass. Deck was doubled over in pain. They looked out the window to see the paper boy on his bike, with a silver whistle, a plethora of dogs nipping at his heels. The whistling stopped and the sound in their ears deadened. The thud of the paper on the wood door was hollow. It resonated through the long hallway. The howl of dogs drifted through the disturbing silence. They watched the boy cycle on, the ringing taking up at the end of the block. The dogs kept chasing, big husky mutts. Nat could feel a sickening sensation of nostalgia permeate his senses as he watched the creatures race up the street. It was misplaced like deja vu. He had never seen them in his life.
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