The morning began as any other typical morning. As I started my day, I had no idea of the horror that was to be unleashed in our own back yard.
I was just leaving for the post office when I stepped out onto the back deck. That is when I first heard that unmistakable baying of hounds giving chase. There were many of them and they were wound up into such a frenzy it was just a continuous din of dogs. This cacophony of predators so near my house was unnerving.
I stood there and listened. I was not sure if I should just go back in the house or continue on to my car 60 feet away. Then I heard my own dog Millie. Being a coon hound she was naturally curious as to what the noise was all about. But Millie is not a bold dog. I began to wonder if I should fear for her as well.
I called to Millie to get her back in the house before this horde of hounds came sweeping up the hillside. As Millie came rounding the house from the front, I caught my first glimpse of teeth and terror coming toward the both of us.
There they were. A stampeding brigade of baby beagles.
There must have been a dozen of them. They moved in unearthly ways and seemed to have a flocking instinct that kept the pack moving in the same general direction. What was the morning to hold for me? Was this to be my end? Was I to be eaten alive by pudgy puppies?
I watched the horde swarm up the hillside, carefully avoid the wet spot in our septic tank's drain field, and then continue their relentless march over the next ridge. I was spared.
I can still hear their calls of death in my ears. Oh will time remove this memory of horror or must I forever remember this as...
The Day of the Beagle Babies
[dun-dun-dun, sounds of 1950s scifi B movies]
With enough bone-chilling adventure to keep you on the edge of your seat. Coming to the woods near you. Taxes, title, and tags not included, your mileage may vary, keep out of reach of children. Do not operate a motor vehicle if you are a baby beagle.
Copyright 2006, Kevin Farley (a.k.a. sixdrift, a.k.a. neuronstatic)
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