Intro (Click to reveal)

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Cole

Entry number 005. Original exchange is dated March 15th, 2003. Author is unknown, but, but this appears to be a statement, an excerpt of an inpatient evaluation at the Riverside Institute. Recording by Cole Weavers.

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Cole

The problem started when my family got a puppy. It was a Labrador, and we named her Bella. Pitch black fur with eyes that were far too human to belong to a dog. God, the way that Labrador used to look at me, chin turned down, whites of its eyes showing all glassy and teary eyed. And if you accidentally said the W A L K word in my house, there was no possible way you'd escape the guilt of Bella.

Admittedly, she was adorable, although she was also a bit misshapen. In fact, we began to call her Perogi because of the way she looked when she laid down and the complimentary grunt as she did so as if she were a 50 year old father of four. Family dogs always pick one person in the family that they really bond with.

And so she became my dog, despite it being my mother who'd picked her out from the farm litter and walked her every day. Now, while it was my mom who walked her, when it came to food, I was the easy mark. The one Perogi could manipulate in a matter of seconds with those eyes that were far too human to be hers.

I, I don't care what anyone says, your family pet knows enough to know who to bug when they want a walk. And who to bug when they want food. If I was eating, Perogi wanted a bite, it started off cute enough. One bite for me, one bite for you. But as she grew so too did her, appetite, At first we thought it was the farm dog in her. Growing up, those first 10 weeks in a litter on the farm, having food thrown into a trough like those puppies were a bunch of pigs, and having them clamour all over one another just for a bite to eat.

I, It's common to see that in dogs you get off the farm, they barely breathe between bites and she always wanted more. But Perogi was different. Hungrier. And she'd let you know just how hungry she was. I swear I could hear her try and enunciate the words. One bite for me, one bite for you. It became a mantra. I heard it over and over in my head.

One bite for me, one bite for you. Every time I ate, I would feed Perogi. And likewise, whenever Perogi would eat, so would I. At first it was only the human food. The eggs for breakfast, a sandwich at lunch and chicken or steak for dinner. But I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming crushing sense of dread creep over me when Perogi ate, and then I'd hear her speak in those nonsense sounds that dogs make when they try to imitate humans.

But then looking at her eyes that were far too human to belong to a dog. I would hear the words in my mind in a voice that, that felt like it wasn't mine. One bite for me, one bite for you. I'm by no means a particularly proud man, but I couldn't help but feel shame as I knelt down and grabbed handful after handful of her kibble and shoved it in my mouth.

But I, I just wasn't able to shake the feeling that something horrible would happen if I didn't. It didn't help but to convince me further that as I crunched the hard kibble between my teeth and I looked at Perogi, that her, that her mouth was, was open just slightly and the corners were pulled back in what I could only see as a knowing grin. One bite for me, one bite for you. The words rung through my mind as Perogi panted, staring into my eyes with her eyes, which were far too human to be hers. One bite for me, one bite for you. One bite for me, and one bite for you. One bite for me. One bite. For you. I ate and I ate until I was desperately thirsty.

My mouth was drier than it had ever been before, and so much so that when I went to swallow, it felt as if I had forgotten the way to do just that. That's when I began choking on the insides of my own throat. My eyes bulged and I looked about for answers to my dire state, frantically as if I'd forgotten the most common sense motions and actions to solve the simplest human needs.

And Perogi sat on her haunches, her lips pulled back, and that sickly dog smile as she panted. In front of her sat a slimy bowl of water. A few pieces of kibble bobbed about its surface, and little bubbles of saliva clung to the edges. I was so thirsty. I plunged my face in hardly waiting for any other thought to cross my mind.

And as the warm water hit my tongue, I heard the words again. One bite for me, one bite for you. That's when I knew it wasn't my voice. It, it wasn't the whispers of my own voice in my mind. It was someone else's. Something else's. One bite for me, one bite for you. Perogi quietly chomped at the air, her teeth clicking slightly together.

No sound, but a tiny rush of air, left her thin lip. One bite for me, one bite for you. As soon as my thirst was quenched, my stomach growled and spasmed in the pain of hunger, my mind could make little to no sense of the things I was feeling. One bite for me, one bite for you. I could feel my belly bloat as the kibble I had eaten, swelled and expanded with the water.

I desperately gulped, and despite the pain and physical knowing that my hunger could not be my own, my mind was filled with the words. One bite for me, one bite for you. And so I ate and ate and Perogi just smiled and panted and sat on her hunches watching me eat. I thought it would stop when I was away from Perogi, but it wasn't Perogi. It couldn't be. She wasn't the voice in my head. She was only a dog.

I knew that, I knew she was only a dog and still I, I, I couldn't help but count the days as I chewed my lips in hunger till Perogi would die, and then maybe the voice would stop. But that didn't work either. That didn't work. And now you've got me strapped to this bed and I am so incredibly hungry.

If you could just loosen these straps, then I could just have a bite to eat.

One bite for me, and one bite for you.

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Cole

It always amazes me how far folks will go to try and pass a story off as real, uh, this has a, uh, an official letterhead and it's even stamped with an address and a date. Like someone made a rubber stamp. Now, I, I doubt this is real. This is probably one of the more ridiculous stories I've received in a long time.

But, but that's the thing about the exchange. They, they can't all be gold. But wait, is there...

There is. Someone's, someone's removed part of the story.

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Outro (Click to reveal)

Mark

Tiny Terrors is an anthology horror podcast produced by Pulp Audio and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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This episode was directed by Cole Weavers, with sound production and editing by Mike LeBeau.

Cole

This episode featured Cole Weavers.

Mark

To find additional information or to join our Patreon for additional content and ad free episodes, visit our website www.tinyterrorspod.com.

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Mark

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Mark

And finally, thanks for listening.

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