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My transition into high school went smoothly enough, though by that time, I did not have the luxury of being the "creepy" new kid. My bookworm habit did me no favors in dealing with the more popular students, but the budding features that my father had passed down to me thankfully made me less of a target than some unfortunate others. Puberty had brought with it broader shoulders and more muscle, which made most would be bullies think twice about starting any confrontation. In this way, I sailed through the first two years of High school with little issue.

It was in the third year of my high school career when I was approached by a fellow student on friendly terms. Prior to his advance, I had garnered a reputation among my peers that I was not a friendly or amicable person. Most of my introversion was a direct result of my uncle's random acts of abuse, but at the time, I justified it by telling myself that making friends wasn't worth the effort. I remember I was seated in the lunch room with my nose in a C. S. Lewis novel. The cafeteria was large and loud. The linoleum floors did nothing to stifle the noise of shrieking children and each table was easily foldable for storage when the room needed to be converted into an assembly hall. Trevor sat down across the table from me; lunch tray in hand. I had already finished my meal. There was a brief silence from him before he gathered the nerve to step out onto a limb.

"Hi," he said. "You're Malcolm, aren't you?"

I lowered my book just enough to see who he was. His hair was black and his eyes were hazel. He didn't really have any other distinguishing features at that age except for his tiny nose. I had seen him before in my classes, but, like the other children I went to school with, I had never paid him any mind.

"Yes," I replied.

"I'm Trevor," he said.

"Okay."

Most other children would have given up after that, but Trevor was determined.

"You looked lonely over here so I thought I would join you for lunch."

"I already finished lunch," I said, lifting the book back in front of my face.

Trevor continued, undeterred.

"Why do you ignore everyone all the time?" he asked.

I glanced over the book in time to see Trevor stuff a fork full of watery mashed potatoes into his mouth. I marked my place, closed the book, and set it down on the table. I then stared at him as he ate. Looking back, it was a rather mean thing to do, but I was trying so very hard to get him to leave me alone. However, instead of my awkward stare making him uncomfortable, he just laughed it off.

"If you're trying to freak me out, it won't work," he said with a chuckle. "I have two older brothers and they do stuff like that to me all the time."

"You have two brothers?" I asked, curious about the idea of siblings.

"Yeah and they're usually jerks."

"Well, I don't have any," I said.

"You're better off," he said, grinning to indicate the joke. "What are you reading anyway?"

"Oh, it's a fantasy story. I enjoy books about that kind of thing. Or about adventures in general. Do you like to read?"

"I knew you had it in you," he said.

My look of confusion must have been obvious because he elaborated.

"I knew you could open up if I pried enough. I think we should be friends!"

"Um... ok, I guess-" I started to say, but the end of lunch bell cut me off.

"We'll talk more after school if you want," Trevor said as he picked his tray up off of the table. "I'll see you in class!"

And with that he was gone into the crowd of exiting students. The rest of that day, we sat next to each other in class and passed notes. Thankfully, the teacher didn't notice. The notes were about all kinds of things; such as what we liked to do in our spare time, what foods were our favorite, and etcetera. Trevor asked which television shows I watched, but I hadn't watched any. Similarly, Trevor was not fond of reading on the whole, but we promised each other that we would give books and radio a fair try. I suppose it was the start of a typical friendship. It wasn't until a few months later that Trevor invited me to his house for the first time. The prospect made me uneasy as it meant asking my uncle about the visit.

George Lehr was often unpredictable at this point and I had no idea why. The servants blamed alcohol, but I assumed that there was more to it than that. I approached him after dinner because the food generally seemed to calm him. He was reading the newspaper when I gathered enough courage to broach the subject.

"You have a friend?" He asked in disbelief.

The bellowing laugh that filled the dining room made my cheeks darken with embarrassment. When I didn't budge as his laugh died down, my uncle must have assumed that I wasn't joking or talking about someone I had imagined. He looked at me in silence for what seemed like decades to my young mind before he shrugged his imposing shoulders.

"I suppose it's possible for another queer to go to the same school," he said. "Don't go over there on a school night. I don't need my brother's ghost coming back to lambaste me for letting you ruin your education."

I shrugged off the insult in the moment; mostly because, I was used to that kind of thing coming from him. It was an odd thing, though; my uncle being relatively nice to me. Maybe he did actually feel guilty for his past behavior. It was impossible to tell, but that's how it was with my uncle. He would seem genuinely concerned for my well-being one moment and then fly into a terrifying, abusive rage the next. Regardless, I was glad to have his permission and I greatly anticipated spending a night away from the large, mostly empty house.

The weekend arrived and Trevor and I set out walking after school. It was chilly outside, being late October, but he claimed his house wasn't far and I trusted him. We were friendly enough with each other by this time to joke about all manner of things; from school and the teachers we disliked to more risqué topics. Admittedly, Trevor was more ready to delve into taboo territory with his humor and chatting while I would just chuckle awkwardly in response. I won't lie in these pages and say that I wasn't attracted to him. He was the only person who I had ever allowed beyond my social barriers and it was difficult not to be enamored. At the same time, I was deathly afraid that he wouldn't feel the same about me and tried to keep my feelings to myself. When he made comments about girls in our class, it was like a knife being driven into my stomach and twisted. I hoped that from the outside, it wouldn't show. We were bundled in our jackets to stave off the nip in the air brought on by the change of season. The sun was shining at least so that helped to warm us a bit. I could taste the smoky scent of autumn each time I took a breath and it was a welcome change from the stifling heat of summer.

"Hey, Mal," Trevor asked suddenly as we walked. "Ever kissed a girl before?"

His smile betrayed his kidding intentions so I played along.

"Oh yeah, sure," I replied with sarcasm dripping from my words. "You know, all of those girls I know so well and talk with all the time at school."

Trevor laughed.

"Me neither, but I've seen my brother's girlfriend go in for a kiss. She looks like this."

He sucked his cheeks inward at the same time and crossed his eyes until he looked like a fish. I chuckled at the goofy expression.

"They're probably just as new to it as we are." I offered.

"Nah, my brother's eighteen," Trevor reasoned. "They've been dating for almost two years. She's just super awkward."

I shrugged as his words hit me kind of close to home. I wondered if I would look that way when I had my first kiss. Trevor's medium length black hair fell in front of his eyes and he wiped it away. We walked in silence for a few minutes as I looked around the neighborhood.

It was a normal looking suburban area with similar looking houses lining the streets. Despite the rather ominous clouds gathering above, there were adults raking fallen leaves and children younger than us diving into the piles. I remembered doing so when my parents were still alive. I hadn't told Trevor about my parents. It wasn't something I liked to think about in those days.

"Hey." Trevor broke our silence. "Want to take a shortcut?"

"Sure," I said.

Now, you no doubt think me insane for what I have already told you in this memoir, but I assure you, every word is the truth. It was around this age, the age of seventeen, that I had once again begun experiencing frightful nightmares. I shrugged them off at the time, assuming they were due to the stress of trying to maintain good grades and my friendship with Trevor. They also seemed to be brought on by thunderstorms and heavy rain. In each dream, I was being chased through the woods by a beast that I could not readily identify. All I could hear in the dream were my panting breaths and the beast's baying howl as it closed in on its prey. It would get closer and closer to me, no matter how fast I ran. I would hear the sound of it pouncing from the ground behind me, the snarling maw swiftly approaching my back and then my eyes would snap open to reveal my bedroom. Yet, each time I awoke, the terror gripping me remained embedded in my heart. The worst instances of the nightmare were when I could feel my pursuer's hot breath on the back of my neck as if its jaws were about to snap shut and sever my head from my shoulders.

The shortcut Trevor led me through gave me an unsettling feeling, much like the forest from my dreams. The path cut in between two houses and lead back into an undeveloped ravine. I assumed it was for draining storm water. The ravine itself was fairly steep and at the bottom sat a small stream. We carefully made our way down the slope, sliding on the fallen leaves and clinging to small trees for support. Trevor hopped the brook first and I quickly followed. We walked along the water's edge for a short while before Trevor began leading me up the hill on the other side. The faint sound of thunder rumbled in the distance, making me look up.

There, at the top of the hill we were climbing was an enormous, black-furred dog. It looked a great deal more wolfish than domestic with its shaggy coat, pointed ears, and long claws and teeth. I grabbed Trevor's arm to stop him and we froze. The black dog sniffed the air in our direction before lifting its lip into a vicious looking snarl. A peal of thunder cracked the sky above in that instant and Trevor fled past me down the hill. I could have sworn there was a glint in the beast's eyes; a greenish glow that seemed to move like fire. I abandoned all pretense of bravery. We dashed back down the hill, more falling than running. By the noise behind us, it was obvious that the dog was pursuing. Memories of my nightmare flashed in my head, driving me ever faster toward the other embankment. I passed Trevor and leapt over the brook. I heard Trevor do the same behind me as my lungs burned in my chest. I had started to ascend the other side of the ravine when a root caught my foot and I fell against the slope. Trevor scrambled up the steep incline passed me, but as I turned to free my caught limb, I saw the dog pacing back and forth on the other side of the stream.

"Trevor, wait!" I yelled. "He's not chasing us!"

Trevor stopped as well and turned. The dog sat on its haunches, still growling low in its throat with rolls of thunder rumbling through the sky above. I had the very uneasy impression that it was staring at me in particular.

"Why did he stop?" I wondered aloud.

"Who cares? Screw this shortcut! Let's get out of here."

Trevor's insistence was understandable, but I was still immensely curious about the animal. It was overriding my fear. I stood back up from where I had fallen and approached the small brook. The black hound's growling grew steadily louder as I came closer.

"What the heck are you doing!?" Trevor hissed behind me.

I didn't answer. Instead I removed the second half of a bologna sandwich from my backpack and held it just out of the canine's reach. Its nose went wild at the scent and, though it was still growling, it started licking its lips. A crack of thunder punctuated another snarl as the wolfdog took a step toward the water. It abruptly stopped at the edge of the stream and then began pacing back and forth once more, this time focused on the sandwich in my hand. I felt sorry for the beast. The sandwich peeled apart easily and I separated the meat from the rest. The black beast watched intently, eyes flickering every so often.

"Come on, Mal," Trevor whined behind me, but I ignored him for the moment.

I tossed the bologna across the brook toward the dog that leapt to catch it in those vicious looking jaws. The meat disappeared in seconds and it started sniffing around for more. When I held up both empty hands, the growling started anew. Trevor and I quickly scrambled back up the side of the ravine we had descended. Every so often I looked back, to see the dog still sitting or pacing by the water's edge. When we reached the top and I took one more cursory glance, the wolfdog had vanished.

"What is wrong with you?" Trevor asked. "Weren't you scared?"

"At first, maybe," I replied as we walked.

Trevor shook his head and I looked up at the sky. The threat of rain had ceased and the clouds were parting above our heads. I sucked in a cool autumn breath as the adrenaline from our encounter was slowly cleansed away.

"You read too many books," Trevor sighed. "What if that dog had pounced on you?"

I was lost in thought. Something about that animal reminded me of something.

"'A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen.'" I quoted.

"Ok, now you're freaking me out again," Trevor said.

I rolled my eyes.

"It's from a Sherlock Holmes novel. But in the book, the hound is just a normal dog, covered in phosphorus."

"Just forget about it," Trevor said. "We just won't use that shortcut ever again!"

I shrugged, but my curiosity had been piqued by the mysterious beast. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced of its supernatural nature. We arrived at Trevor's house before long. Like the other houses in the neighborhood, it looked nearly identical to the houses around it. I met Trevor's parents and brothers. They were all very friendly and kind people. Trevor and I stayed up late, chatting and joking. We listened to the radio together and I read from one of my novels to him. In the end, we fell asleep on the floor of his room to the low, rumbling sound of thunder in the night sky outside. As I drifted off, thoughts of the black dog filled my mind.

The next morning, Trevor and I walked to a nearby field to throw his baseball. His brothers had lent us an old wooden bat as well. The sky was overcast from the storm the night before and the ground was still wet from dew. The field was fenced off from the street, but large enough that we didn't have to hold back on our swings. Trevor pitched first, lobbing a few easy balls at me. I was grateful for that as I wasn't very good at baseball. After each throw, Trevor ran to get the ball like a dog playing fetch. After about five pitches, it was my turn. The first ball I threw, Trevor hit with little trouble and we continued swapping places for several minutes. On one of my turns pitching, Trevor hit the ball with a tremendous crack, sending it sailing over my head all of the way to the edge of the field behind me. Trevor game a sheepish grin, obviously proud of himself as I frowned at him.

"Sorry, Mal!" He said.

It didn't sound sincere. I grumbled under my breath as I trudged toward the ball. The edge of the field was lined with trees and the ground under them was carpeted with brightly colored fallen leaves. Finding the ball wasn't difficult. I stooped to pick it up and brushed the leaves and dirt off of it. The sound of thunder reached my ears and, as I looked up, the enormous dog from the day before was staring at me from beyond the tree line. I took a slow step backwards, keeping my eyes fixed on the beast. However, that green flash in its eyes betrayed its intentions and as soon as I saw it, I turned and fled. I clenched the ball in my fist as I ran, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Trevor, run!" I shrieked as I saw his eyes widen at the sight.

When I reached the halfway point of the field, I took a cautious glance behind me. The black wolfdog's teeth were inches from my leg and I abruptly turned to the right, hoping to throw it off. The beast followed, though snarling behind me as the thunder above us grew louder. Trevor was already over the fence at the other side of the field and I forced myself to sprint faster than I ever had before. Fire in my lungs made every breath burn as the sound of my heavy foot falls rang in my ears. I leapt at the fence and Trevor grabbed my hand, trying to pull me over.

The electric sensation of pain shot through me as the creature's teeth sank into my leg, just above my ankle. In horror, I realized that it was trying to pull me back down onto the grass. Trevor tugged on my arm with all of his strength, but there was no way he was going to overpower the wolfdog. I kicked at the black creature with my other foot, striking it in the eye with the heel of my shoe. It opened its jaws to yelp and I threw myself over the fence. There was no rain, but lightning lit up the sky above and the loudest thunder I had ever heard followed. The beast snarled and barked at us from the other side of the fence as I stood and limped after Trevor across the road. Pain set fire to my leg with every step, but I forced myself to keep walking. By the time we made it back to his house, I couldn't stand it and tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Trevor's mother dressed my wound and cleaned up the blood that had dribbled down my leg. She also called my uncle to tell him that I should see a doctor about a rabies vaccination. Instead, George Lehr personally drove to Trevor's house and picked me up. For reasons unknown to me at that time, I was never tested for rabies or given a shot. In fact, I couldn't remember ever being inoculated for anything throughout my childhood. My uncle asked me all sorts of questions about the animal that attacked me and, because I feared what he would say, I omitted everything supernatural from my answers. However, that fateful encounter with the mysterious black dog would not be my last.