The Collar

Raymond ran down the alley, dodging the metal chain-link fence post and a few empty cardboard boxes on the street. He wasn’t familiar with this alley in particular but knew most of the other ones on the block. His coat blew behind him like a cape as he flew past the empty trash cans and ran through a group of birds scavenging for a meal.

“Hey, where are you loser?!” Tommy shouted behind him from the street corner. Ray managed to dive behind a stack of boxes before Tommy could see him in the darkness. He focused on slowing his pounding heart and held his heaving breath. Tommy’s footsteps lingered at the corner before Ray heard him turn and walk down Marigold Street, which he knew was the direction of Tommy’s house.

Ray left out a sigh of relief. Tommy chasing him after school had turned into an unwelcome routine. He felt the anger bubble up inside him while touching his split lip where Tommy’s large fist had made contact with his face. How could he ever fight back? Tommy was a year older, taller, and the most feared bully in school.

Ray peeked around the pile of boxes, flaps blowing in the cold fall breeze. He was alone. The shadows shifted in the light of the full moon. He stood and wiped his knees. When he looked up, something blinked back at him in the darkness.

A set of dark brown eyes stared into his. Ray startled, then froze. The eyes were set in the fur of a black head, pointy ears, an upright tail.

It was a jet-black dog. Its eyes were neither threatening, nor relaxed. Not curious or questioning. His expression conveyed a knowing, an understanding of Ray and his predicament. He was not going to hurt Ray. If anything, Ray felt like he had found a new friend.

“Hey, buddy,” Ray spoke in a low voice in case Tommy was still nearby. The dog took a few hesitant steps forward. Ray closed the gap between them, carefully extending his hand for the dog to sniff, which it did. As Ray patted his head, he could see a green collar around the dark furry neck. Unclipping the collar, Ray turned it over in his hands. “No tags on you. Who do you belong to?” He murmured. The dog didn’t seem lost or confused. He appeared well-fed and sported a healthy, shiny coat. Ray thought this dog would surely scare Tommy away, and any other bully who tried to beat up on him. He looked frightening at first glance, like a guard dog or police K9.

Suddenly the dog turned and ran down the alley as though he had someplace to be. Ray called after him “Wait, buddy, come back!” But he silenced quickly and listened. There was no sound, nothing to hear except the dry leaves crackling in the trees and the squeaking of a nearby gate, rocking in the wind. There were no footsteps made by soft animal paws. Ray was left alone in the alley, holding a green collar in his cold, dry hand.

The following morning, Ray groggily lifted his head from the warm flannel pillowcase. He lifted his arm to push up off the mattress, noticing his coat still covering the sleeves of his T-shirt. Ray had slept in his clothes. Odd, he had never been that tired before.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he felt strangely constricted, as though something was wrapped around his body somewhere. Ray sleepily groped around his arms and torso, eventually feeling up to his neck. His fingers felt the metal zipper which closed his coat all the way to the top. No wonder he felt so warm, Ray unzipped the coat but still felt an unusual sensation around his neck. He grabbed at it urgently, his fingers closing around stiff fabric.

The collar.

The green collar from the night before was clipped around his neck. It was neither too tight or too loose, but a perfectly adjusted fit. A wave of panic washed over Ray. He did not like this collar around his neck. It felt vaguely threatening, although there was nothing inherently dangerous about a collar. Maybe it was the thought that Ray hadn’t put it there himself. Somehow the collar had gotten clipped around the very vulnerable skin of his neck during the night without him knowing. The idea scared him.

Ray hopped off the bed, dashing quickly to his bedroom mirror. His fingers went straight to the clasp and he pushed the tabs inward to release the circle from his neck. Nothing happened. He pressed the tabs together, again and again. No luck. Bewildered but wanting to take action, he grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk. He slid the blade between his delicate throat and the strong fabric and began to cut. He angled the blades left and angled them right. He sawed and sawed, finally stopping to examine his progress. Not so much as a fray was visible. The green collar refused to be unclipped, refused to be cut. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to be late for school, Ray changed his clothes, threw on his coat again and zipped it all the way up, hiding the collar from view. He would have to deal with it later, but felt a strong sense of dread that something frightening was sitting, waiting, on the edges of his mind to step forward.

There was something wrong at the school. Classmates were quiet. Ray’s teacher, Mrs. James, somberly took attendance. Tommy’s chair noticeably sat vacant.  “Class, I have a terrible announcement to make. Tommy was injured la-last night. He’s in the…hospital”  The class hushed and some kids whispered among themselves.

My mom said he was attacked.

There were tons of cops at his house.

Blood. Blood everywhere!

Ray hurried home after school, noting how pleasant the journey was without the apprehension of facing Tommy’s balled fists. He fingered the collar, now in his pocket. He thought back to lunch period earlier, when his best friend Jeremy came up from behind, him What’s with your coat? It’s zipped up to your chin! Jeremy ran the zipper down and busted out laughing. Never mind the coat, whats up with the freaky dog collar?! And before Ray could react, Jeremy pinched the plastic between his fingers and removed the collar from Ray’s neck like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, Ray was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. Actually he was just plain scared. How had Jeremy gotten the collar off when it was impossible for Ray? But the more concerning question lingering in the back of his mind was what happened to Tommy? Rumors flew among the students all day,

His arm was ripped right off!

No, an animal bit his face!

I heard it was a bear!

No way, there’s no bears around here! And on and on.

The truth didn’t matter, Ray was certain it was bad. Tommy wasn’t coming back to school anytime soon. And the thing that made Ray’s heart beat a little faster and gave him goosebumps was a possibility he could hardly fully grasp. The green fabric of the collar brushed his thumb in his pocket as he walked, and Ray thought again to lunch period when Jeremy had tossed it down into Ray’s lap. Here ya go, man. Want some french fries? I’ll be right back. As his friend walked away, Ray’s eyes settled on the small drop of dried red blood left behind, a sharp contrast against the strip of green that had just been around his neck.

Instead of turning toward home, Ray found himself back in the alleyway where he met the black dog. The evening gray spread through the narrow gravel stretch and Ray sat down to wait. The air grew colder but he welcomed the breeze against his bare throat. As the last of the sunset faded over the rooftops and darkness fell, soundless paws made their way toward the boy, and the dark brown eyes from the night before peered into his.

The dog, ever dark in the blackness, stood still regarding him. Ray thought about what to do. Talk to it, pet it, give the collar back? He decided on all three. He extended a hand and stroked behind the dog’s ears.

“Did you hurt Tommy?” He asked, not expecting an answer. “Did I?”

Ray brought the green collar out of his pocket and gently put it back around the dog’s soft neck. He then voiced the question only now his mind would fully put into words, “Are you some kind of werewolf? Or…am I one…now?” No response. The dog, or werewolf, Ray wasn’t sure, turned and trotted away down the alley into the night.

Nine Years Later

Ray walked his usual route down the busy New York City street to his apartment. It was fall again, and every autumn season brought back the memory of the time a mysterious dog had saved him from a childhood bully. Tommy never identified his attacker, but he also never bothered Ray again after that night. Ray didn’t know whether to be grateful or disturbed. He assumed he would always be haunted by the idea that he had committed such a terrible crime, though he couldn’t remember it.

The sun was setting and the full moon glided out from behind the pink-tinged clouds. Ray climbed the steps to his door but seeing his neighbor, Mac, he paused. Mac ambled down the steps toward Ray, shoulder-checking him as he passed. The two men had an argument the day before which was just the latest in a series of disagreements over Mac’s obnoxiously loud music and pizza boxes stacked in the stairwell.

Ray rubbed his shoulder feeling powerless and small. He hated this feeling. He felt abused. He felt tired of always being the nice guy.

He took the last step and his door came into view. A box sat on his doormat waiting quietly, still. Ray approached, squatted, and opened it. Inside lay a green collar with a small drop of dried blood on it.

Ray picked it up gingerly, his skin prickling with apprehension. He unlocked his apartment and went to the window looking down on the street below. The streetlights were lighting up, each glowing a soft yellow light. Ray could have sworn he saw the shadow of a dark animal dashing beyond each yellow globe and the glowing bulbs chasing it further and further from view.

He sat on the couch, the collar in his hands once more and he waited. He waited for clarity and fought with the desire to take control of his life. He waited for Mac to return home. He waited until he heard the sound of Mac’s key clicking in the lock across the hall. He clipped the green collar around his neck, took a deep breath, and waited for the dark of the night to reveal its secrets.