I woke up as thunder shook the house, just in time to see the power fade. My dog was freaking out, as usual. When the lights go out, he scamperes from room to room, his nails going clickity-click on my hardwood floors. I've never seen a pet so afraid of the dark.
As I rummaged through my nightstand to find a flashlight, he stopped and yelped. "Calm down Max, I'm looking for it." I heard his nails against the floor as he found his way back to me in the dark. Finally pulling out the flashlight, I clicked it on to make him feel better. "Come on Max, I've got the light." Scanning the room with the light from my bed, I caught a glimpse of his nose from behind the bookcase. "Come on boy, it's ok." He peeked his head out barely, with a look of frozen terror in his eyes, then pulled it back again.
"Whatever. I'm thirsty anyway." I got up and stumbled to the kitchen, then stopped dead in my tracks. What lay before me made me nearly vomit. Sprawled across the floor was my dog, splattered in blood. His head had been hacked off. As I tried to recover, I heard the clicking of nails on the floor approaching from behind me.
