“The Loop”

You woke up in the middle of the forest again. The air was heavy, like breathing through wet cloth, and your paws sank into the dirt as if the ground didn’t want to let you go. You looked down and realized you wasn’t you anymore. Your body was small, soft, golden brown. Your reflection in the puddle stared back with wide, trembling eyes. eyes that weren’t human.

Ahead stood the house. Old. Wooden. Abandoned, but… clean. Too clean. The fence wrapped around it like bones around a cage, and the long wooden plank stretched from the ground up to the second floor, an invitation, or a dare.

Something inside you said go.

The boards creaked under your paws as you climbed. You could hear faint breathing from above. When you reached the window ledge, you froze. A fluffy German Shepherd lay near the wall, massive and silent, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You wanted to move, but fear pinned you. Your heartbeat thundered so loud you thought it’d wake him.

No furniture. No sound. Just light—just that sharp smell of dust and something faintly metallic.

Then it hit you. The urge. The instinct. Find something. A weapon. Get out before he wakes.

I don’t know where the thought came from, only that if I didn’t listen, I’d die again.