The man with the Dog...
1350 Words
It was raining faintly, the kind that left the world damp and dreaming.
Elara sat by her window, sketchbook on her lap, pencil unmoving. The paper stayed blank, as if resisting her efforts to pull something from inside herself. She didn’t know what she was waiting for… until she saw him.
At first, it was just a shape in the foggy distance — tall, poised, unbothered by the chill. Then came the dog. A large, snow-white fluff of fur trotted beside him like some celestial creature that had lost its wings.
Dr. Aurelian Vale.
Even in daylight, he looked slightly unreal.
Elara blinked once.
He was standing at the park just across the narrow street, where the garden trees opened into quiet grass. No one usually came this early. Especially not him. Especially not with a dog.
Her gaze trailed over him, involuntarily — the rolled sleeves of his black sweater, the way his hand rested lightly on the leash, and how his eyes… found hers.
Direct. Inevitable.
Elara’s breath hitched. Her pencil slipped from her fingers and rolled off the windowsill with a soft clatter.
He had seen her.
But that couldn’t be right. From this angle, her window wasn’t visible from the ground. Her room was angled high, tucked behind the slanted roof. She had always thought of it as her hiding place. Her shell.
So how—
Dr. Vale raised a hand, ever so slightly. Not waving.
Just… acknowledging.
Like he knew she’d be there.
Elara stepped back quickly and pulled the curtain shut.
Her chest thudded. A little too hard. A little too loud. She stood still for a moment, her fingers clutching the edge of the curtain as if it might fall without her.
Then came the soft vibration of her phone on the desk.
A message.
Unknown Number:
“If you’d like to meet Aldous, he likes gentle hands.”
— A.V.
She didn’t reply. She didn’t delete it either.
---
Three days passed.
Each day, he returned.
Same time. Same place.
And each time, he brought the dog — Aldous. A walking cloud with a pink tongue and tired, kind eyes. Elara told herself she wasn’t looking for them. That she just happened to glance out the window.
But every time, when her eyes met Dr. Vale’s, it felt less like coincidence… and more like a pattern. A rhythm.
And the worst part?
She didn’t close the curtain again.
Not once.
---
On the fourth day, the air smelled like wet flowers and freshly opened silence.
Her aunt had gone shopping. Her uncle was asleep in his recliner, snoring under the hum of the television.
Elara stood at the front door for too long. Shoes on. Hand on the knob. Frozen like a statue caught in the middle of its own awakening.
A voice echoed in her mind.
“He likes gentle hands.”
She opened the door.
The wind greeted her like it had been waiting.
The park was empty except for them — the doctor and his beast.
Aldous trotted over before Elara even reached the path. The dog pressed his soft side against her leg and looked up with quiet expectation.
“He remembers your scent,” said a voice behind her.
Elara startled slightly. Dr. Vale stood a little too close, but not enough to be inappropriate. Just enough to wrap her in that air he always carried — composed, unreadable, laced with something magnetic.
“I— I don’t think I smell like anything,” she murmured, awkward.
“Oh,” he smiled faintly. “You do. We all do. But you… you smell like paint and rain.”
Elara flushed. She reached to pet Aldous, who immediately flopped on his side with a content grunt.
“I didn’t think psychiatrists kept pets,” she said.
“I don’t,” he replied, watching her hand trail along Aldous’s fur. “He’s not mine. He just follows me. Maybe he’s a little broken too.”
Elara looked up at that. Their eyes met.
Something in his gaze shifted — darkened. Like a shadow sliding over moonlight.
“Do you think broken things can recognize each other?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer. Because the words stuck to her throat like honey-glue and shame.
They sat on a nearby bench, silence draped like a shared coat between them.
Then he said, without turning his head, “You haven’t been painting.”
She stiffened.
“I—I tried. It’s… difficult.”
“I know.”
Elara looked at him. Really looked.
His profile was sharp, almost statuesque — but there was a tiredness in his eyes that didn’t match his calm. Like he’d seen something terrible and learned how to live with it.
“Why do you care so much if I paint again?” she asked, voice small.
He didn’t answer for a long moment.
Then he turned to her slowly, leaned in ever so slightly, and said—
“Because when I fix you… you’ll never leave me.”
Her breath caught. The world felt… too quiet.
The wind paused.
Aldous looked up but didn’t move.
Elara swallowed hard. “You mean... if I get better, I’ll thank you?”
“No,” he said, a faint edge in his smile. “I mean, when your colors return… they’ll only exist in the world I built for you. No one else will ever understand them.”
. He already misses you.”
---
That night, Elara dreamt of a leash made of red string.
It wrapped around her wrist, loose at first.
But every time she turned away, it tightened. And when she looked back, Dr. Vale stood at the other end, holding the other loop, smiling softly.
Lucid dream... ( lost garden)
It started with the sound of birds.
But not cheerful ones — more like birds echoing from a hollow shell. Echoing too long. Too far.
Elara stood in a garden she didn’t recognize.
The colors were washed out, as if someone had painted the world and then dragged a wet brush across it. Leaves floated unnaturally in the air, frozen mid-fall. The sky above was smeared grey, like someone had tried to erase the sun.
In front of her…
A child.
No older than eight. Dark hair. Barefoot. Kneeling beside a white dog whose fur was stained red.
The child pressed both hands on the dog’s chest, crying softly — but no sound came. Just a blur of mouthing words. As if the whole dream had its volume turned down.
A breeze stirred. Faint. Cold. The garden rippled like a veil of silk, and the scene shifted—
—Glass. Cracked. The sound of tires. Screams.
Elara gasped.
The garden twisted. Became a blur. That child turned toward her with wide, glassy eyes.
And whispered, "Find what you lost."
A flash.
The same red leash she saw in last night’s dream.
Wrapped tight around her wrist now. Burning.
From behind, a low voice spoke — layered, familiar.
“You already belong here.”
The garden shattered.
---
She sat up, heart pounding.
Her room. Morning light. Slightly grey, filtered through the curtain.
“Elara?” her aunt’s voice knocked against the door. “You awake, sweetie?”
“Y-Yeah,” she replied, still breathing hard.
Her aunt opened the door just a crack. “Breakfast’s on the table. Also… your college called yesterday. Said your rejoining process is complete.”
Elara blinked.
College?
It felt… far away. As if she’d been gone for years, even though it was just her first year being resumed.
“You should get ready,” her aunt added, gently. “Your first class starts at ten.”
Elara looked at her hands.
Still shaking a little.
She hadn’t dreamt like that in a long time.
Not since…
No. She didn’t want to think about it.
But the words echoed again in her mind.
“Find what you lost.”
And below that, another layer.
“You already belong here.”
She touched her wrist.
Nothing.
But it felt tight.
- Writer
