Skull Dog Novels & Stories

The pack members at our backs tensed, a low chorus of growls rumbling in the dark. Zero didn’t hesitate. His gun roared, the report deafening in the enclosed space. The lead creature’s head snapped back, but it didn’t fall. It righted itself, a black, oozing hole where its eye had been. It laughed, that same glass-grinding sound. “Puppies with firesticks,” it rasped. “How quaint.” “Silver,” one of our pack members, a hulking wolf named Kael, snarled. “It has to be silver!”

"It's human, not a hound at all." I hear what he says and it finally triggers my brain. The short neck, arms extended to the sides not under, legs extended straight down. How the neck meets the spine and continues downward almost fluidly. The rotated pelvis. My gaze travels back to his head. The skull isn't human, it's elongated to hold the number of huge teeth in its mouth. A twisted thought almost sickens me. "A dog bred with a human," I say out loud. Just thinking it was bad enough. Giving voice to such a travesty is almost more than I can handle.

"It's human, not a hound at all." I hear what he says and it finally triggers my brain. The short neck, arms extended to the sides not under, legs extended straight down. How the neck meets the spine and continues downward almost fluidly. The rotated pelvis. My gaze travels back to his head. The skull isn't human, it's elongated to hold the number of huge teeth in its mouth. A twisted thought almost sickens me. "A dog bred with a human," I say out loud. Just thinking it was bad enough. Giving voice to such a travesty is almost more than I can handle.

The dog, if you could even call it that, was enormous. Cerberos had a wide and stout body like that of a pit bull’s, except this body stood at least ten feet tall. The three, fear-invoking heads, rose a few feet higher. Its skin was completely hairless, the dark, leather-like material stretched taut over sinew, muscle, and bone. Teeth as long and sharp as daggers emerged as each of the heads pulled back its ugly black lips in a show of hatred. Each head reminded James of a decomposing Doberman; ears flat back in agitation, black pits for eyes. The middle head barked a low bass-filled roar.

Fucking Drusdor and his lack of hygiene. Not able to say that Bigfoot had recently resided in the back seat, Stralath forced a smile. "I briefly looked after a neighbors dog." "Oh. What kind?" Stralath touched the invisible disc attached to his skull and searched the database for an appropriate breed. "A big, drooly, smelly Mastiff."

This time Alexander curiosity was finally piqued as he raised his eyebrows and both of them gave Ash questioning looks. "So what's the full note all about, Ash?" "First off, a Donna is a title. The Donna bears a high rank in the Balck Wolf Clan world. Or maybe, just as what you said. This Donna might be the mole in the Clan. And, the note doesn't end there." Ash grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and put it on the table. It was a piece of note where the handwriting was too similar. As if it was a part of the mysterious note.

he says, “You’ll see!” Andrew opens the crate with a flourish, and Spike leaps out. I have to say, this dog looks intimidating. Hellhound is of indeterminate breed. I think there’s some English bulldog in his genes somewhere, but I’m unsure of the rest. Spike is a pure German shepherd. He’s even bigger than I envisioned, and his body condition is impressive. Shiny coat, powerful legs, and huge teeth. He will terrify any potential intruder through his appearance alone! “So you want to see him in action,” he asks, obviously hoping that I will agree,” I can show you ‘attack’! I’ll grab the training dummies!”

"Do you wanna know what's going on or nah?" I gathered my senses and puffed a loud breath before following his steps downstairs. My eyes widened when we reached the wide, big underground and my jaw dropped when I saw a huge cage in the corner with thick steel bars. It was like a giant's white cage and there was a huge, brown dog inside, bigger than the usual dogs. It looked like a Siberian husky but bigger, as in bigger... like a monster, no! more on like a freaking werewolf! I stepped background as the dog howled so loud.

With his enormous snout, he sniffs at me, bobbing his head slightly as if asking for a taste of what I have. I reward him with the treats I've brought, which are dried cattle femurs—a bone that would typically last an average dog a year, but this behemoth could demolish in under twenty minutes. As I toss it as far as I can into the yard, Dean limps around the corner of the house, looking taken aback. "What on earth happened to him?" Dean asks, bewildered. "What do you mean, isn't that the same dog?" I respond, equally baffled.

One head was half-destroyed, brain matter leaking out. The moment it locked onto me, eyes glowing that eerie, hungry green. It let out a snarl and lunged. I didn't flinch. Not because of the OP loot my family gave me—this time, I came armed with something better. Right before its jaws hit my throat, I whipped out my secret weapon: A mega-sized chicken drumstick. "Go! Drumstick!" I chucked it. The hellhound stopped mid-lunge, instantly shifting back to its true form—three drooling dogs barreling after the meat.