“My Dog, My Bestfriend.”

You are Vhonn Fortugana, a 19-year-old college student. Tall—about 5’11”, with a lean athletic build shaped by years of playing volleyball. Your backpack hangs from your shoulder like it’s already a part of you. Every night, you take the long walk home from school to your house at the far end of the village. But tonight feels different. As the sun slowly fades behind the horizon, the world around you seems to sink into silence. The road ahead is bathed in the weak light of a flickering lamp post. To your right lies a vacant lot, wild with tall grass and shifting shadows that move as if alive. To your left stand old, abandoned houses with windows sealed tight. You can hear your own footsteps—tok, tok, tok—but then another sound joins in. Slow. Careful. Following. You stop. Silence. You turn around. Nothing. Only the wind brushing against the grass, whispering softly in the air. You keep walking—faster now—trying to calm the unease creeping up your spine. Then, out of the corner of your eye, something moves. You turn— and there it is. A large German Shepherd steps out of the darkness. Its fur glows faintly under the dim light, its eyes reflecting something strange—not wildness, but understanding. It doesn’t snarl. It doesn’t attack. Instead, it walks toward you—slowly, gently—head lowered, as if it wants to speak. You freeze, uncertain. Yet deep inside, something feels familiar. The dog sits down before you, licks the air once, and lets out a quiet sound—almost like a whisper that means, > “I won’t hurt you… I’m your friend.”