When the Angel of Death is Passing
"When a dog cries like that the Angel of Death is passing." -RoI
Little Dog Monday was lying at the door of his kennel at the Glen St Mary station, his black nose resting on his yellow paws. The trains had not brought Jem back to him tonight, but he would continue to wait. Jem could trust him to be the first to welcome him home when he did return.
Monday glanced up at the starlit sky, wondering if the same stars were shining on his beloved master, wherever he was. Yet there was something silvery coming towards him that was not a star. Monday gave a little bark and scrambled to his feet, his ears pricked up and alert.
The outline of a tall man who seemed to be cloaked in dark silvery shadows was drawing nearer. His cloak hid his clothes of dazzling colours underneath, and he was playing a strange tune on his pipe. The sight was eerie but alluring; Monday felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. When the figure came close enough for Monday to see his face, the emotionless, white eyes of the Piper gleamed. Monday caught the penetrating stare and yelped, turning away.
A great many shadow people were following the Piper. From a safe distance, Monday peered at them. They were mostly young lads in khaki, with eyes as ghostly as their leader. Monday looked on as they continued their merry dance to the Piper's song. Was Jem among them?
Monday searched the crowd of boys in khaki for a familiar face he longed to see, the face of the beloved master he was waiting for. He did see a familiar face, but it did not belong to Jem. Why, it was black-haired, dark-eyed Walter!
The little dog ran to the edge of the platform and howled brokenly. Walter was following that strange Piper, and Monday knew instinctively that Walter would not come back. The handsome soldier boy heard the anguished call, and smiled. He left the ethereal legion of shadow soldiers and walked towards Dog Monday, patting his spotted head.
"Don't cry for me, little dog. Jem will come back for you soon, you dear loyal Monday. You keep faith too," Walter knelt and soothed Dog Monday, in a queer voice full of echoes. Monday ceased howling for a moment, and two tears welled up in his loyal brown doggy eyes. He gave Walter's hand one last lick for goodbye as Walter rubbed his ears affectionately and looked lovingly into his face. Oh, he would miss this dear little village so, this place filled with love and memories. Walter sighed, almost contentedly. It was not hard to follow the Piper after such a happy, full life. He stood up and patted Monday's head for the last time. Monday's eyes followed his every move, the tears shimmering in the tricky light of dawn.
It was daybreak. The sun rose slowly, bathing the Glen with soft golden light. The Piper's legion marched over the hills Walter had loved, taking the handsome poet of rainbow dreams with him. Monday gave one choked howl farewell, as they vanished over the horizon.