Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a dog
Have you ever seen a monster? I have. This sounds like the beginning of a creepypasta, but bear with me here.
Did you know that there are actually dozens of reported sightings of werewolf-esque dogs all over the world every year? They’re just always written off as someone being drunk, or crazy, or pulling a prank. Even when there’s been a body to examine, or photographs in the local papers, experts always just agree it’s a mutated wolf, or some very unlikely crossbreed of dog. They hardly ever get reported as news. But you can find them. They’re there.
There was the frighteningly huge wolf that was shot outside a small rural town in the American Midwest, with huge claws, long fur, and an oversized head. There are the multiple sightings of “dogmen” in and around Philadelphia, dating all the way back to the eighteenth century. A village called Cannock Chase in central England has been terrorized by werewolf sightings for the last thirty or forty years. A half-man, half-dog is said to haunt industrial estates in Hull, Ireland.
These things get seen all the time, but nobody actually believes in them. Maybe they did centuries ago, when many of these sorts of sightings were investigated by law enforcement or by the church.
And even if they weren’t real, they could serve as cautionary tales, or as explanations for a darker reality. The threat of wolf attacks was never far from the minds of peasant farmers of several hundred years ago. I’m sure it was easy to ascribe human malice to these events, especially in the harsh light of what they probably were—random acts of violence in a natural world. Or, in the other direction, subscribe animalistic violence to human cruelty, such as with Peter Stubbe, known as the Werewolf of Bedburg, who committed multiple horrific murders of women and children.
It makes sense that these stories exist. They serve an important role in our culture, the same as any myth or fable or esoteric belief. But that’s all they are, right? Nothing more than humanity’s overactive imagination, or our pattern-seeking behavior gone wild. That’s what I convinced myself of over the last decade or so.
Until two nights ago, when I saw something. Or, rather, the shadow of something. It was rainy, and the light on the cobblestones made everything shimmery and strange, and the sound of the church bells scared it off pretty quickly. But whatever I saw wasn’t a person. And it wasn’t a dog, either.
I could write it off the same way everyone else was. I was tired, it was dark, the reflection off the wet pavement was in my eyes. And I probably would. If I hadn’t seen the exact same thing ten years ago, almost to the day.
Posted by Lycanspiracy on 12/08/2021
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