Dog

The hallway stank of cat piss and cigarette smoke. The walls were dressed in horrendous red-and-brown striped wallpaper, scarred with grubby handprints, scuff marks, and deep gashes. The papering had clearly been done years ago, with no plans to redo it. 

A threadbare brown carpet ran the length of the corridor, cigarette burns dotting its surface, floorboards visible where feet had worn the fabric down. The hotel’s look and smell spoke volumes about its regular clientele and their requirements.

Ellen stood outside her room, looking in. She gave it one last glance. A single bed sagged in the middle. A kettle the colour of old teeth hummed faintly when plugged in. A shower with two moods, scald or glacier. It had served its purpose. Four walls and a lock. Nothing more.

Her stomach growled.

When had she last eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Did coffee count?

She pulled the door shut. It swung stiffly on mismatched hinges. A shoddy repair job, bearing the scars of regular battles between opposing opinions on either side of a locked door.

The door swung closed like the turning of a page in a book. A book she’d rather not read. Another chapter finished in the unremarkable life of Ellen Persephone. And now, a new one begins.

What miseries await her today? she wondered.

The door stuck in the frame again. Last night she’d had to drive her shoulder into it just to get the key to turn. She placed both hands on the handle and gave a sharp tug, using her weight as leverage.

The wood scraped against the jamb and . . . BANG.

It thudded closed. The latch clicked.

A bark snapped through the corridor. Ellen jumped, head whipping toward the sound.

Down the hall, a man wrestled with his own stiff door while a large Alsatian watched her. The man didn’t notice her at all, but the dog did. Head tilted, ears pricked, gaze steady and intelligent. She recognised the bark now; the same one she’d heard the night she checked in. She wasn’t sure if it had continued through the night. She’d been too tired to care.

The man cursed quietly at the lock. The dog didn’t move. Its eyes didn’t blink.

Ellen tore her attention away and crouched beside her bags. Three of them. Her entire life, neatly folded and zipped. She’d spent the morning rearranging everything, trying to make the load easier, throwing out a few mud-stained clothes and anything she could live without. 

At Tod’s, she’d packed blindly through an emotional fog, grabbing at whatever her trembling fingers could find. Now she’d had time to comb through and organise her possessions. The small wire trash can in her room held the remains. The difference in weight was small, but the illusion of order helped.

The dog was still watching. She no longer met its gaze, but she could feel it . . . the prickling awareness between her shoulder blades. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and bent to lift the holdall.

Behind her came a burst of sound, the scrape of claws on carpet.

She looked up just in time. The Alsatian was already running toward her, the lead snaking free of the man’s hand. His head jerked up, mouth open in surprise. A duffel bag in the same hand as the lead dropped at his feet with a heavy thud, as if filled with sand.

Ellen barely had time to inhale.

The dog hit her like a wave. Her balance went, knees twisting, the air punched out of her. She hit the floor. The weight pinned her down. Hot, heavy, alive. Its face hovered inches from hers, eyes bright and teeth bared. The smell of saliva and rot hit her hard.

She flinched. Waited for the bite.

But it didn’t come.

Instead . . . a tongue. Rough, frantic, wet. Lapping at her cheeks, her neck, her chin. Whimpers of excitement, not aggression. The tail thudded against the floor, a drumbeat of joy.

Then the weight lifted. A hand yanked the lead back. The dog whined.

Ellen blinked up at the man. He loomed above her, bald scalp gleaming under the low light. He was flushed, breathless, his face shaped by apology. The Alsatian strained against him, paws scraping at the carpet to get back to her.

“I’m okay,” she muttered, pushing herself upright. Her hip throbbed.

“Forgive him,” the man said, voice low, accented . . . oddly unplaceable. He tugged the dog to his side, then offered Ellen his hand. “His spirit runs before his wisdom.”

She hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm but careful.

Up close, she noticed more. He smelled faintly of dust and mothballs. His scalp was smooth, freshly shaved, but a shadow beneath the skin showed a full hairline. The baldness was a choice, not to disguise pattern baldness. Loose trousers, a faded hoodie two sizes too big, trainers from another decade. He looked like a monk who’d lost his monastery and ended up here by mistake.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, brushing herself off. “I was just startled.”

He nodded once, eyes studying her as if reading between lines only he could see. The dog pressed against his leg but kept staring at her.

“He knows you,” the man said. “A beast sees truth. Eyes of flesh are blind, but the soul is not.”

She forced a small smile, unsure if he was being poetic or just strange.

“Yeah, well,” she said, “I probably just smell like takeaway.” Or wet dog, she thought.

He didn’t laugh. His expression stayed calm, thoughtful. “Yes, food leaves its scent… but hunger smells louder.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled again. Embarrassed, she turned away, collecting her bags quickly.

“Wait,” he called after her. “I ask a kindness of you. You will not go unpaid.”

That stopped her.

Her mind tripped instantly to the kind of favours that got paid for in a place like this. She wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

He seemed to sense the thought. “No,” he said gently, though his eyes were sharp. “Not a thing of shame. I walk a road he cannot follow. Keep him for an hour… perhaps two. I place coin in your hand now, and more when my steps bring me back.”

He crouched, rummaged in the duffel bag, and came up with folded notes. Crisp. Real.

I can eat, she thought.

Ellen glanced at the dog. It sat perfectly still now, tail sweeping once against the carpet.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

The man smiled.