I had a puppy. Once. Long time ago, when I was a kid. Me dad bought it back from the pub on a Thursday. I say ‘puppy’, but it was big as me. Golden Retriever. I was only four.
I loved that dog.
I used to take it through these woods we’re going through now. We’d walk for hours. I mean, you know, when I was eight or nine, or something.
It was like we was growing up together. Me and the dog.
I’d talk him, you know. To the dog. Things what was on me mind. When me mum and dad split up, that was a tough one. Like me whole world got ripped in half. Me mum, she reckoned there weren’t no question I was ever going with me dad, even though he wanted me. Went to court, and that. But he wouldn’t have the dog, so I stayed with me mum. I loved me dad and everything, even though . . . he . . . well, you know . . . I mean, Mum never knew. No-one ever knew. It was like a secret. Me and Dad. And the dog. I told the dog.
Had to tell the dog.
Up in these woods, it was. That’s where he’d take me. Over there by the big oak at the end of the path where no-one ever goes. Stopped when I was fourteen. Beat the shit out of me when I said I was going to the Old Bill. When I got home I told mum I was chasing the dog and tripped over and went down a ditch. Me mum, she believed anything I said. Her little angel, see. Her little fuckin angel.
Funny, that. Eh? Eh?
And now you’re thinkin, ain’t ya. You’re thinkin did he do the old man in and what about the dog. Why ain’t the dog got no name, and you’re thinkin, you’re thinkin what happened to the mum and what’s this about the woods, the woods, the woods . . .
‘It’s all right, Steven. Come on.’
You’re thinkin what about the woods, the woods, the woods . . .
‘Calm down. Calm yourself down.’
And there’s this feelin you got, listenin to my voice bangin away in your head, and you’re lookin in my eyes but you can’t see my eyes and it’s like the dark’s comin towards you and it’s fillin you up and it’s comin out your mouth and your ears and your nose and you got razor blades splittin you open from the inside and it’s all fallin inwards and it’s like when you was a kid, when you didn’t know what the world could do to you and you didn’t know why you was starin at it with so much fuckin fear and you don’t know why you’re starin at me with so much fuckin fear but you know if you shut your eyes, if you shut em just once, just fuckin once, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKIN DIE.
‘Bring him over here, Sergeant. I think we’ve got something.’
Ian Ayris spends most of his time trying to catch the voices and see the colours, and it is a most tiring pursuit. He has been fortunate enough, however, to have over twenty published short stories to his name. These stories can be found online in such places as Thrillers, Killers ‘n’ Chillers, Beat to a Pulp, The Flash Fiction Offensive, Curbside Splendour, Waterhouse Review, A Twist of Noir, and Pulp Metal Magazine. There will be further stories appearing in Yellow Mama, Voluted Tales, Powder Burn Flash, and A Twist of Noir. He has been published in print in each of the four Byker Books Radgepacket collections and two Static Movement anthologies, plus the upcoming Out of the Gutter Issue 7.
Ian lives in Old Blighty with his wife and three children, just outside London. His debut novel ‘Abide With Me’ is to be published in 2011 by Caffeine Nights Publishing.
15 thoughts on “Secret by Ian Ayris”
Here I go thinking it’s going to be a nice story and it ends all scary and mysterious. 🙂
“You’re thinkin what about the woods, the woods, the woods . . .”
Perfect. Everything about this story is.
In the end, even Ol’ Yeller can’t save us from from the big bad wolf now can he?
Ian, the one thing you can say about your stories–they all come up with unexpected endings. Which happens to be just the ticket for me.
Sad and scary and with a cracking twist.
Wow. Starts out nice and sweet, then the sense of darkness, but the dog is there as a confidante. That doesn’t make anything right, but it does seem to make life semi-tolerable. Then, the woods… You wonder. You actually hope. But, you don’t know. Because, it’s a secret. Superb story.
Nicely crafted story. The run-on into a police confession was a stroke of genius. I bet you thought about this one awhile.
Ahh, you do have voices in your head, Ian! That was a delightfully dark little tale 🙂 I like this description: “razor blades splittin you open from the inside”. Wicked.
Hm . . . looks like we gotta keep an eye on this British lad. He might have a future. Liked it the first time and just as much now, mate.
Good story. The narrative perfectly conveys this subject’s state of mind.
Ian you know how to hook the reader in with the first words. That is the sign of a geat storyteller.
Good one: short but none to sweet!
Wellup to your usual high standard – Great job.
All the best
Very dark and creepy this one, drew me in then spat me out a bit confused and wanting to know more.
Have to agree with Julia on the line razors splittin you open from the inside, very memorable line that is.
Not your typical “boy and dog” story, Ian!
I like when things go dark though.
Nice to meet you over here as well, at PMM!
A brilliant piece, Ian. ‘Nuff said.
I adore the way you hold up characters for all to see as they crumble in your hands. Spectacular sinister work. Thanks for the walk in Steven’s woods.