weakly.
…
She didn’t know if she was being flirted with or stalked, but every time something bad was about to happen to her, the Rottweiler showed up. Her professor decided to accost her after class with a deadline (do what he wanted in three days or fail the class), and the dog appeared as if by magic. Someone almost hit her when they ran a red light, and she was tackled out of the way by two hundred and something pounds of black fur and overwhelming muscle. It was as if the dog had a sixth sense.
And every time the dog showed up, his owner appeared the next day bearing breakfast. Sometimes it was McDonalds, and other times it was donuts or something fancy from a breakfast bistro. Every time, though, she realized after the man left that it was exactly what she wanted to eat that morning. Sandra might have been craving oatmeal, but if he showed up with a Subway egg sandwich, she suddenly realized how much better that sounded.
After three months of this, she finally realized the strangest idiosyncrasy to this already befuddling relationship.
“Hey,” she told him one day, chewing a mouthful of Farmer Boy’s French toast. “You know, I have no clue what your name is.”
The man looked up sharply, his face the coldest she’d ever seen it. “No.”
Sandra’s eyes widened and she leaned back slightly. “I-I’m sorry,” she said nervously. “I just…I mean, I’ve seen so much of you. Well, never mind. You don’t owe me anything, after all.” She looked down and repeated, “I’m sorry.”
He looked at her and sighed deeply. “Sandra,” he said softly. “Sorry.” He patted her hand.
“No, I shouldn’t be nosy. If you felt like telling me, you would have by now. You and your dog have already done so - “ That was when another strange idiosyncrasy hit her. “Sir, why do you never bring your dog with you? You say he likes me, so wouldn’t he enjoy these visits?”
The man went even more uncomfortable. “Questions should, ah, stop. Please.”
Sandra chewed her lower lip. “Sorry, sir.” She ate in silence for a while before he stood. She looked up at him and felt a wave of sorrow. She somehow sensed she had frightened him away. “Sir, please, I didn’t mean anything by it. I really am sorry.”
“Sandra, you curious. I, ah, accept that. But can’t be with, ah, curious person.”
“’With?’” Sandra asked, eyes widening. So he was flirting with her. But as strange as their relationship was, she realized she had grown powerfully attached to him. The idea of him never coming back filled her with a soul-wrenching misery. Tears welled up in her eyes. “No, please. Don’t stop visiting. I’ll stop asking questions.”
“Don’t worry. I see you.”
Relief flooded her. “Promise?”
“Yes.”
He left, and she finished her food with silent joy.
…
Sandra sat in her bed, bawling.
He lied. He said he would come back and he lied.
She had managed to continue with her life as always - the classes she had been failing were salvaged, barely. Everything was back to its monotonous, ground-in routine. The only difference was that Sandra was now smearing on a smile every morning.
It had been a month since he had left her apartment, and she didn’t realize just how strongly his absence would affect her. It made no sense - their relationship was a strange one, and she didn’t feel entirely safe when he was in her apartment, but his loss struck her like a wrecking ball. It wasn’t even the fact that his dog no longer followed her…after all, the people who used to make her life miserable now trod carefully around her for fear she would bring the snarling behemoth with her again. It was the man. The strange, quiet, kind-hearted man.
Now sound echoed in a miserable way, her apartment feeling empty and lonely for the lack of the curious gentleman with the giant Rottweiler. No matter how many times she ran it through her mind, Sandra couldn’t make herself feel better about the one stupid question that had driven him away. It didn’t seem that serious, and she swore never to ask it again.
She felt downright abandoned.
But then again, she didn’t see the black-feathered, green-eyed sharp-shinned hawk nesting on the fire escape outsider her window.
###
What is a phooka?
Related to the fae, phookas are said to be jet black shape-shifters with a deep love of trickery. While they are often in the form of a rabbit, dog, or monkey, they can take just about any animal they need to, as well as go invisible. While usually full of mischief and trouble, there are also instances of phookas developing an attachment to humans and becoming stout, determined protectors. Phookas almost never give out their name, as knowing a fae’s true name gives one power over it.
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Author’s Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000730778650
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Allison Graham is a zoology major who lives in the middle of nowhere with a house full of pets and a love of the fantastically unbelievable. A longtime cryptozoology and mythology fan, she started The Bestiary Tales as a way to connect with fans and remind people of the long-forgotten creatures which so many of our ancestors feared, worshipped, or respected.
She loves anime and manga, singing, drawing, costuming, watching elimination-based television shows like Project Runway and Masterchef (she knows nothing about fashion, but fancies herself a pretty good cook), and, of course, studying up in her vast and baffling mythology library.
She would like to point out that anyone curious about her artwork, attempts at poetry, and costumes should visit her DeviantArt - she loves new watchers and friends! Anyone who wishes to talk about the Bestiary Tales, ask about her sources, and even suggest new creatures for upcoming stories is welcome to reach her via Facebook. Just remember, the internet is hard to come by where she lives - if she doesn’t respond for a long time, it’s not you, it’s low service and terrible bandwidth.
Phooka Page 2