This is going to seem silly to most of you, rather than frightening. But I'm narrating from my own point of view, so you're going to have to use your imagination. I was on my way home. At night. In darkness. There are no people anywhere in sight, in any direction. And then, as I'm getting pretty close to home, there's a dog. A pretty big one. First I didn't react – I'm not really terrified of dogs any longer, just slightly uncomfortable around them. Usually.
Except, as I looked around, there really wasn't anyone nearby. For as far as I could see in every direction, there are no humans. The dog isn't on a leash, it's just kind of wandering around poking at things. I couldn't see if there was a collar, it was too dark – but it was definitely a dog, probably a German shepherd, I'm not sure. Vaguely wolf-shaped, kind of big, unleashed. At this point I'm starting to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable, but I keep walking, hoping it'll ignore me. I guess I must have noticed it before it noticed me, though, because at the moment I start moving, it darts up and looks at me – and I almost completely fucking freeze up. Fight-or-flight kicks in, mind starts to race; I can't outrun it, I don't have a chance, there's snow and ice everywhere. I'm going to have to fight, except it's pretty damn huge and it'll probably drag me down. For a split second there, it felt like I was staring into the eyes of Death itself. The Wolf has come for me. I'm fucked.
Then, of course, the dog sauntered off, more interested in a random stick on the roadside. I stood stone still until I was absolutely sure I couldn't see it any longer, and then I very, very carefully went inside, thankful that it's the modern age, that there aren't actually any wolves stalking in the shadow. Not here, not any longer. Right?
...
Right?
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