Page 11 of The Neighborhood Witch

Chapter 4

The Witching Hour

Max’s high-pitched moan, a mixture of agony and commanding attention, broke the silence. She was tall enough to rest her head on the edge of the bed without jumping up. Her tail swayed back and forth as she awaited a response. Hugo laid under a billowing dark comforter; his head buried in a pillow facing away from the demanding pup. She moaned again in a higher, distressed pitch.

Hugo rustled under the bedcovers. She let out a third moan.

“No,” Hugo’s muffled response emerged from beneath the comforter.

Max plowed her head as far forward as she could to get closer to Hugo.

“I said no,” he reiterated.

Max’s bark pierced through Hugo’s ears and directly into his soul. He begrudgingly flipped the covers off and rolled over.

The yellow glow of the alarm clock resting atop the nightstand came into focus. 3:30 a.m. Max’s tail wagged back and forth. Her manipulative, sad, brown eyes begged for Hugo’s attention.

“It’s only a few more hours,” Hugo exclaimed. He rolled and, in one motion, flung the covers back over his head. “Go back to sleep.”

Max jumped onto the bed with a single leap. She trampled around the bed, her body leaning against Hugo’s. He emerged from under the covers to see her nose inches from his face. He could feel her warm breath with every panting. She whined once more.

“Fine,” he agreed to her request. “Make it quick.”

Max jumped around the mattress before leaping down from the bed.

Hugo rolled back over and swung his legs over the edge. He sat there, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “It’s your turn to let her out,” Hugo said to the other side of the king-sized bed.

His eyes locked onto a small indentation in the mattress, now vacant. He slowly rotated his black onyx ring. Another bark echoed through the bedroom.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Hugo replied. “Quit being bossy.”

Hugo tossed the covers about the bed without care—they hadn’t been properly tucked or made in weeks. The headboard collected a small layer of dust. Two nightstands stood watch over the room like silent guardians—one with an alarm clock, the other with a small lamp. Hugo’s side wiped clean, not with a rag, but with a wipe of his hand. The far nightstand remained untouched with a layer of dust like freshly fallen snow. Once full of warmth, joy, and love, the bedroom was a disheveled mess.

Hugo moved toward the door. The dark hardwood floor was cold to his bare feet. He dodged piles of dirty clothes that needed his attention scattered in front of a long dresser. He tucked his arms close as he passed by to avoid knocking over the stacks of papers and other oddities collected on top of the dresser. Max focused on the bedroom door with a burning intensity, as if she was trying to will it open. Hugo grabbed and turned the antique brass doorknob.

Max burst through the open door, running down the hall, and clattered down the stairs. Hugo struggled to find the light switch in the dark. With a flick of the switch,Hugo became temporarily blinded as the hallway illuminated. He rubbed his eyes, and his sight was quick to return. Pictures of happier times lined the hallway. Their frames crooked and disoriented from being bumped and never corrected. Max whined from the base of the stairs as she waited.

“I’m coming,” Hugo yelled.

The hallway led past the bathroom and other bedrooms to a balcony railing that overlooked the winding stairs. Hugo braced himself between the railing and the wall, still getting his bearings and wanting to make sure he wouldn’t trip over his pajama pant legs as he descended the stairs. His hand left streaks in the dust as it slid down the banister.

Max ran through the kitchen to the back door. Hugo retrieved his shoes at the base of the steps, slipped them on, and joined her. She twirled around in a circle as Hugo gripped the doorknob. She slipped through as soon as the opening was big enough for her slender frame.

A staircase emerged from the back door with paint chipped off the railing. The wood showed signs of rot and decay from being exposed to the elements. A single lawn chair and grill occupied a space next to the steps. A few trees towered over the yard from the surrounding houses. The glow of the full moon struggled to shine through the remaining foliage to illuminate the entire yard. The empty tree branches cast a shadow like gnarled fingers clawing out into the darkness.

The backyard was small, desolate, and unwelcoming. A picketed privacy fence enclosed the space, and a locked gate was the only point of exit. A small tool shed occupied a back corner. Wild, unkempt bushes lined the back fence. The decaying remains of leaves covered the yard.

Max sprinted down the stairs and explored the yard. She trounced around, rustling the fallen leaves, searching for that one perfect spot. Smelling every square inch, she hunted for intruders to her yard along the picket fence. She stopped to smell under the tool shed before continuing on her journey.

Hugo traipsed down the stairs and waited for her to complete her exploration. The air was crisp. Every exhale produced a diminutive, puffy white cloud. Hugo’s teeth chattered. He buried his hands under the sleeves of his black T-shirt. Hugo paced, trying to make the vibration of his jaw stop.

“Hurry up,” he commanded in a low whisper.

Max wasn’t paying attention. She continued on her crusade, stopping momentarily to sniff the ground, only to run off to explore a new spot.

Hugo gazed up at the night sky. It was clear, only a few clouds. The stars shined brighter in the moon’s glow. Hugo exhaled and watched as the white cloud of fog danced in the nighttime air before dissipating.

“I can still make a bigger cloud than you,” Hugo said to an unseen figure. He closed his eyes and drew out his exhale, creating a much larger cloud of fog.

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