Wild Spaces by S. L. Coney EPUB & PDF

Wild Spaces by S. L. Coney EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Author: S. L. Coney
  • Language: English
  • Genre: Dark Fantasy Horror
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 2 MB
  • Price: Free

The dog shows up at the mint-green house on the edge of the woods
a month before the monster arrives, his coat shiny as a new copper
penny. Right away, the boy knows he’s special, even though his
mother says all dogs make you feel that way. She stands back, an arm
crossed over her chest, chewing a thumbnail as she watches the boy
and his father both kneeling in the grass of the front yard, petting the
animal. He runs his fingers through the dog’s long fur and rubs his
soft ears, the shape and size of him reminding the boy of a friend’s
golden retriever. The dog’s tail beats the ground as he pants and
smiles, eyes half-closed like this is the most blissful thing ever.
“He probably belongs to someone,” she says, speaking around the
tip of her thumb.

“He doesn’t have a collar,” his father says, “and he’s pretty
skinny.” He leaves the boy and dog in the grass and wraps his arms
around his wife from behind, hugging her close. “You’re eating your
nail polish again.” His father begins swaying side to side just a little,
murmuring into her hair, and his mother shrugs. He smirks and
walks two fingers up her arm. She catches his hand before he can
tickle her and turns her head, trying not to smile.

“We’ll put an ad in the paper,” his father says.
They wait a week, then two. But no one claims the dog, and finally
his mother acquiesces. They name him Teach—after the boy’s
favorite pirate—because his father says they can’t call him
Blackbeard on account of his red fur, and those weeks before life
upends are nearly perfect.

The boy and Teach spend early summer evenings playing baseball
in the field by the waterway—the boy always playing third base just
like his dad on the Charleston RiverDogs—and being pirates down by
the cave on the beach, burying treasure and avoiding the dark where
they’re not allowed.

At home, they lie stretched underneath the table, the smell of
chicken and pineapple wafting from the oven. His father and mother
dance around the kitchen to Glenn Miller on his father’s record
player. His mother smiles open-mouthed, lips scarlet red, her curling
hair black and shiny. His father, slim and angular with a cleft in his
chin and bright, intelligent eyes, brushes his hand over her back as
he crosses behind her, resting it on her shoulder as he stirs one of the
pots and she slices the bread. They’re movie stars in black and white,
a full-orchestra-in-the-background kind of pretty.

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