Here we go, the first chapter in my short story. This is the story of a confused woman who must decide whether she believes a convict or not. This isn't intended to be a long story, though that may change at any moment.Actually, this is the third edit.Originally, this was written about a year and a half ago, though I am making changes here or there, mostly to the sentence structure and vocabulary, as well as the length. Unfortunately, I started it, but never finished it. Therefore, after a certain point, I will have to start making up stuff. I'll stop this rather pointless introduction right now and let you get on to the actual story. Without further ado:

The Path We Tread...

(Working Title)

It was a moonless sky that hung overhead and, barely visible on the horizon, angry clouds climbed upwards before flattening out like an anvil. Lighting flashed within the dark, purplish mass, though no sound reached my ears. I don't know what I had been thinking, walking about in the dead of night. I had been visiting an ill friend, delivering some soup so she wouldn't have to cook and, as usual, I ended up staying longer then I had intended. It was a lonely road on the way home, one of the many blessings and curses of living in a remote house in a remote town in a remote part of the country. There was never any traffic but there was never any company either and I had foolishly chosen to walk the mile or so down the road.

The night was anything but silent. Crickets, frogs, and night birds made sure that there was never a moment of quiet. Even then, the night was still. No animals moved in the underbrush and when one did, I jumped in the air and scooted away, disturbing the steady rhythm I had fallen into. Childhood stories came back to mind, sending shivers down my spine. Vampires, imps, will-o'-the-wisps, and grims all lurked behind a tree or under a bush or hid in the shadows

That was why when I first met him, I thought he was a grim. I felt my blood run cold within my veins and my heart skipped several beats before beginning to pound excessively in my chest. I backed away slowly, trying to keep my breath even and hoping I didn't die of fright right there. He came towards me, a large, shaggy black dog; it's eyes burning a bright, vivid yellow.

I thought it was going to pounce, I was afraid it was going to jump up and seal its jaws around my neck, sink it's fangs into the soft flesh of my throat. But no, the creature collapsed with a low, almost human moan and a whimper. Grims didn't whimper. Not that I knew of, anyways. Logic finally managed to fight off the wild thoughts brought on by panic and it struck me, what should have been obvious before. It was a dog, frail and sickly.

At once, pity yanked at my heart and I felt I had to do something. I bit my lip as I thought of what to do. Just a quarter mile or less left until I reached my house on the curve. I looked back down at it and tried to pick it up before realizing that it wasn't going to happen. He was just too much for my small frame to carry. I sighed deeply and tried to get the dog to stand. After a few tries, the giant mass of fur managed to stay on it's own four paws and from there it was a simple matter of coaxing the dog into following me.

Some how it managed to make it all the way down the road, up my drive way and into my kitchen, only to collapse yet again, this time without moving. I went out to the hallway leading to my bedroom and opened the small closet there. I pulled out my oldest towels and heaped them into my arms, meaning to make a bed for the poor creature. Kicking the door, I closed the closet before hurriedly returning to the kitchen.

The dog lifted it's face up off the ground and looked at me. I sighed and put the rags down in a corner, once again coaxing the dog into it. I stood back and stared at him, clicking my tongue as I gave him a quick look over. He was a pathetic sight indeed. I ran an anxious hand through my dark hair and sighed. What was I going to do, I thought. I looked around with a frown. I had no dog food to give him, and I didn't know any neighbors who had a dog either.

The dog just continued to stare up at him and every passing moment made my heart feel heavier. I went over to the fridge and looked around for anything that I might give him. There wasn't much. Fruits, vegetables, milk, some half-frozen chicken. A search of the Pantry produced similar results. A couple boxes of cereal, some muffins, some Mac-n-cheese and other odds and ends. Not much that I would give a dog. I pushed around until I found a few cans of SPAM that I had for when my parents came to visit. It would have to do…

I quickly served it on a plate and put it down in the middle of the kitchen. I wasn't sure how the dog would react if I gave it food and I got too close. I wasn't too keen to find out either. I stood back and watched the dog, hands on my hips. The poor creature only looked at me once more before moving forward slowly and attacking the food. I sighed again and shook my head. The food was gone within moments. The dog turned it's pitiful eyes back on me before gazing around the room. Another sigh over took me. What to do? I couldn't turn him back lose! No, I'd call a dog shelter in the morning and either drive him over or have them pick the creature up. Either way, the dog would be staying the night.

I served the dog more food before getting more blankets and a bowl to put water in. There wasn't much more I could do so I 'doggy-proofed' the room, moving anything I was afraid might get destroyed out of the way before closing the kitchen door and shutting off the light. In the morning, I would deal with him.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I would appreciate any and all constructive criticism, since this was also intended to be morphed into an original story at one point or another. As such, I realize there will be many things that may not fit in with the world JK Rowling has created. Flaming will be completely ignored. Thank you.

The Lady Fay.: