Morning before daylight, the sounds of ghosts bustle within empty halls of the academy. The dark outlines within moonlight spaced apart curving entryways. Not a right angle in sight, as the building looped together in obtuse fashions; slithering walls connect and detach into layers below and above rooms unused.

  “Wow, like a ghost town, creepy…” Horst said with a sulky expression. Beside him stood Fester. “Why don’t we dissolve the Pieces team, I’ve won every match… I almost…”

  “Stop talking about that. Cherry is still with us just as the other six…” Fester replied.

  “Hmm, where is Cherry?” Horst asked, swiping his bangs over his face.

  “Probably home. Oh, what will we do tomorrow?”

  “Finger-wrestling,” Horst said with serious conviction. “Next week we will compete with…” A fuzzy figure appeared behind Horst. Like a jolt of lightning piercing his back, Horst spun, with wide eyes he turned to face the figure. “…” The hallway was empty.

  “Horsty, where are you?” Fester shouted sarcastically down a separate hall. “Its all scary by myself.”

  Concurrently atop the roof of the academy. Where are you, I can feel your presence… Cherry with gently closed eyelids stood at the roof’s edge. Why do you not appear? “Ah…” Did you…get lost?

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  Black flames flicker with the absence of light, the frenzy of the hound hustles along the night streets. Clamoring through, cars stop in its path, people drop with cries for help. They ask “where did it come from?” “What is it?” “A dog!” “Fire…” “The Devil.” Outbursts alike, all so common in their confusion. The police try to surround the creature, as others stand around to watch. They shout for its capture… The hound shivers as its back arches, golden poop, feces lit by radiant car lights.

  “What a polite pup.” “A weird thing…” Some vomit… “Hahaha!” “What a narcissistic creature.” “Sieh mal wie erleichtert er jetzt guckt…” The hound had a face of pure pleasure and joy, a grin from ear to ear, jet black flame dragged along it as its eyes squeezed shut in glee.

  “Ah! Er l?uft weg! Ist der schnell!” Horst said in surprise as the hound continued its track down the busy street.

  “Der reinste H?llenhund…” Fester replied in a similar surprise. “Hey, Horst, wanna grab something to eat?” Fester asked whilst the two continued walking along the bridge beneath a blackened sky.

  “Maybe it's Argos the Black… Eh, treat yourself, glutton…”

  “Oh come on, just this once!” Fester whined.

  “I’ve read about him on the net. They talk of a dobermann rushing through the streets… As if searching for someone…”

  “Come on, nothing too expensive,” Fester pleaded.

  “Shit! I’m so lost!” A boy said in a panic. Running as fast as a hell-hound allowed the wind to pull his curly spirals of hair.

  Cherry smiled in acknowledgement of his coming presence.

  One week, one morning, when he should have arrived… He appeared… The Hell-hound.