The primal, terrified bark all dogs have and only release on the most upsetting of occasions.

But that’s exactly what Nathan heard the night he first saw her: The Red-eyed Lady. He knew her as a tortured face with a smile as nasty as any nightmare. She was his ghost story that had stuck to him like tar ever since he was young.

Nathan’s truck growled to a stop in front of his childhood home, where he’d seen her those many years ago. He sat there, staring at the house, feeling his stomach twist as memories surfaced. He could hardly believe he was here and couldn’t tell if he was feeling excitement or dread, but finally, he would get the answer to what he saw. Finally, he’d figure out if he was imagining it or if she was real. What a way to come home.

Nathan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, studying what had become of his home. It was nothing like the house he grew up in.

The windows were dark and hollow. Graffiti bloomed across the walls from some tortured artist, and the yard was as wild and untamed as his memories of this place. To him, it seemed depressing, like the American dream, only left to rot.

But after a while, Nathan hardly noticed his home. Instead, he was seeing himself as that boy teetering on the edge of innocence before darkness touched his soul on that fateful night.

It was around 3 a.m. when he felt a wet nudge pressing against his leg. Instinctively, his hand swept over the side of the bed and found a pile of fur. His family’s dogs, Lilo and Forrest, were huddled against his bed, urging him to get up. Nathan let out a slow sigh, pulling the covers over his face, but another, more forceful nudge broke his attempt to ignore them. The dogs wanted to go outside, and he was the only bastard up with thumbs capable of opening the door. That’s life in a small house.

“Damn it,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed and cursing his love for his dogs. Only a pair of family dogs could make a teenager wake up early.

The cold hit him right away, prickling his skin as he padded downstairs in the dark. “Why didn’t you go pee before bed?” he grumbled, half expecting an answer. But the dogs trotted along, happy to be heard. He flicked on the living room lights, and immediately, Lilo and Forrest bolted to the back door, growling low and dangerous. Then the barking erupted—sharp, relentless, cracking through the house.

“Hey! Calm down! People are sleeping,” Nathan whispered, half expecting them to obey. But this wasn’t an ordinary bark. It was wild; it was feral. It was the bark from the wolf that lived in all dogs.

Figuring there must be a deer or something in the yard, he shuffled to the door, opened it, and watched his dogs burst outside like Olympic sprinters from the starting line. ZOOM.

“Stupid dogs,” Nathan muttered, folding his arms and sinking into the couch, settling in for the waiting game.

Fifteen minutes later, he was wide awake, uneasy. The dogs sometimes went out in the middle of the night, sure, but they were usually back within minutes. He’d find them bumping into the window or pawing the door, telling him to let them in. But not this time. There was no sound or sight of the dogs. Just darkness pressed against the glass door. Feeling a bit strange, he threw himself up, went to the back door, and called out.

“Lilo!”

“Forrest!”

Silence.

Nathan cursed under his breath. Of all the things his dogs could do, and they could do a lot, this one took the cake: wake him in the middle of the night, ask to go outside, and refuse to come in.

“Damnit.” Nathan stomped upstairs, threw on his robe and slippers, and headed out onto the porch. It was going to be a rescue mission before he went back to bed.

But as he turned the corner onto the porch, he froze.

Just beyond the dim porch light stood a figure—a woman, skin pale as snow, eyes like embers of fire. She didn’t move; she only leaned forward, staring, as though she could reach into his soul and tear it out.

Her face was hollow, skeletal, as though carved from shadows and smoke. Her eyes weren’t just red; they blazed, hot and alive, filled with hate he couldn’t begin to understand. It was wrong, warped and stretched, like something trapped between worlds—a face that shouldn’t exist. And she just smiled, staring.

Nathan’s mind went blank as human nature took over. He had always heard about the fight-or-flight response, and today, he would do both.

Boom! He sprinted upstairs, shaking, and grabbed the cross from his nightstand with his heart pounding out of his chest. He sat there for what felt like hours, running his fingers over the cross, desperately trying to make sense of the senseless.

Ghosts, demons—they weren’t supposed to be real. They were things you joked about, things from horror movies. Things that happened to other people. But this… this had happened. The dogs were still outside, and whatever was out there was too… waiting.

Nathan whispered to himself, reminding himself of his faith and telling himself he shouldn’t be afraid. But he was. He was terrified, shaking from his slippers, wondering what the hell he’d just seen. The cross in his hand trembled, and the cold in his chest wouldn’t leave. But he knew he had to go back out. He couldn’t leave the dogs alone with that thing. That damn fight response, you can’t fight it… you only obey it. So, he grabbed his cross and slowly crept back downstairs, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stop.

Ahead of him, the door seemed like death, like something you shouldn’t open. But strangely, he felt his body going wild with an energy he’d never known since. The energy of fighting for your life. He squeezed the cross until his fingers turned white, took a deep breath, and exploded through the door, ready to face whatever happened next.

But when he cracked the door open, the porch was empty. The veil between worlds had closed, and all he saw was the darkness of the night, with a few trees blowing in the background.

His heart hammered as he tried to reason with himself. Maybe it was just a shadow. Maybe it was the cold. But no matter how he tried to explain it away, one thing was undeniable: he’d seen her, and she’d seen him.

“…Li..Lilo? For…For…Forrest?”

Only the silence answered him, while his skin pricked. Then a rustle from the leaves broke the standoff, and the dogs came sprinting back in, whimpering.

Years blurred by after that night. He graduated high school, his family moved away, and the house rotted, unclaimed and unwanted. Nathan never spoke of that night, too afraid he’d be labeled as crazy. But the night never left him; he saw her every night in his nightmares.

Now, Nathan snapped back into focus, cut the engine off his truck, and took one last look at his childhood home. With a deep breath, he opened his truck door and made off to the house. To Nathan, sometimes the only way to get over a nightmare is to relive it.