Clifford the Big Dead Dog

I'm sure you all know about the classic book series "Clifford the Big Red Dog" by Norman Bridwell. You know, the books consisting of a girl named Emily Elizabeth who loved a tiny red dog so much he grew into a big red dog, yeah that one. The book series was originally published in 1963, it was written by Norman Bridwell and also was turned into a cartoon series, consisting of the same plot.

My little sister, actually liked this particular book, she had every book of the series, exactly up to date, or so I thought... her birthday was coming up in two weeks time. I knew not of what I wanted to get her, I wanted to get her a brand new Clifford book, but, she had them all so far. There was not one she didn't have, she even possessed the very first, original Clifford The Big Red Dog, one of the original copies too. Talk about spoiled rotten.

I preceded to speak to my guardian. She told me generally, that Aunt Clare was an anonymous novel writer who specialized in children's books. She went by the name of Dren Cooper. "Dren, what a strange name... but what does this have to do with your sister's birthday? I only have two weeks left."

She then spoke about how Aunt Clare had been driven to insanity. "Your Aunt Clare was a possessive child. If Aunt Clare owned something, she wouldn't let it go."

"Clare was not only possessive and protective, but she was the extremely jealous type. If she felt left out, she'd let them know about it." my guardian began. "However, Aunt Clare never knew when to shut her mouth or leave well enough alone..." She paused for a second and spoke in a lower and more quiet tone of voice. "Your Aunt Clare was driven insane by my affection for your mother. Clare couldn't stand me and my love for your mum, and became jealous of her."

"Remember how your mother was attacked that night of mid-August last year?" she questioned me. Flashes of that day flickered in my brain faster than light. The brakes stopped working one night while we were riding in the car on an evening drive, mum panicked, desperate for the car to stop.

After a tumble in the car, crashing the car on its side, a stranger broke into the car's broken and exposed window and held a knife to my mother's neck. The person holding the knife to mum's neck, wore a hoodie and a Richard Nixon mask underneath it.

The gashes covered mine and my mother's bodies ached like hell, but not as much as my chest did. Seeing that knife by mum's neck caused my heart to pound at a painful speed. A few moments later however, a police cruiser had arrived at the scene, finding a wrecked sedan crumbled into some pine trees, and alerted an ambulance. Lucky us, we made our great escape.

But I was never told who that was. I nodded slowly, trying to re-block that painful memory from my brain. "That was your Aunt Clare... she was taken away to a mental institution shortly after being questioned by the police." My guardian spoke harshly and lowly. I was baffled, what could I say? She forced a smile again. "Dren Cooper had good intentions however, she dedicated herself to writing cute novels. Anyway, what was it you asked deary? I must've forgotten already, you know me!" she giggled at her own forgetfulness, bless her soul.

"I-I was inquiring about a present for Anya's birthday...&quot; I spoke, although Nana didn&apos;t seem to think so, the word&apos;s she&apos;s spoken had caused the environment to become awkward and slightly uncomfortable. &quot;Ah yes, sorry deary!&quot; She said with a smile upon her aging face. She slowly got up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. No more than seconds later, Nana entered the room again, holding a thin, yet rather large book.

"Take this dear, Dren Cooper wrote it. She was inspired by the concept of Clifford and wanted to recreate her own version of the story. This was the only one she&apos;d ever made, make sure little Anya takes care of this with pride and care. It could be worth a lot of money one day...&quot; she babbled on. &quot;I will, umm... Nana? Have you read this book before?&quot; Nana looked back at me with a puzzled look. &quot;I haven&apos;t, but it seems okay... it&apos;s only a children&apos;s short novel after all.&quot; &quot;...Right...&quot; I said, a little concerned, but I smiled anyway and thanked her greatly. &quot;No problem!&quot;

Upon arriving home, I opened my bag containing the Clifford book I&apos;d had to hide from my daughter. I looked at the cover, it worried me a little. The cover consisted of Clifford lying down in his kennel asleep, it was grey in the background, or at least a stone grey hue. It appeared to be raining, a red outline was drawn on all the characters, and full red for the dog, which appeared to be sleeping. A few people were surrounding him. Each of them with a sad expression on their face.

Emily Elizabeth, the young girl known as his owner, was hugging the dog&apos;s nose that was bigger than her, she had a tear streaming down her face. The two dogs, Cleo and T-Bone also appeared saddened. &quot;What kind of book is this?&quot; I thought aloud. &quot;What kind of book is what?&quot; I heard Anya&apos;s high pitched voice squeal in my doorway. I gasped and quickly shoved the book into my bag before she&apos;s seen it.

&quot;Oh, erm, nothing. Don&apos;t worry &apos;bout it, m&apos;kay?&quot; I smiled gleefully at her, trying my best to hide my concern of the strange novel I&apos;d just been given. Anya cocked her head slightly to the side with a confused expression, but quickly faded into a cheery smile. &quot;m&apos;kay!&quot; she yelled happily as she skipped away. I got up and locked the door as I stared back at the bag containing the novel by Dren Cooper. Dren was an odd name, so before reading into the book I looked it up, just to out of curiosity as to whether it was a valid name or not.

I didn&apos;t find much on it except a few characters in some shows were named Dren, one being Tokyo Mew Mew, but I didn&apos;t care much of the name Clare had given herself, nor its origin. I only cared about the contents of this book. I pulled the book back out of my bag and stared intently at the cover. It had some dead pixels in the background and I swear they made out a picture, of what, I couldn&apos;t figure out.

I opened the book to its first page. It looked happy and normal, I gave a sigh of relief at the thought of it maybe, just maybe being a normal and happy book. The first page consisted of Clifford being hugged by Emily, it had some writing on the bottom of the page. As it was a picture book, it didn&apos;t have many words, about a sentence or two per page really. &quot;Clifford, you&apos;re the best big red dog in the whole wide world! We&apos;re so lucky we have you to protect us! I love you!&quot;

This was cute, and normal for this type of book. The second page had a picture of a stormy night and some writing explaining it was a stormy night. Simple enough, no? The third page was also okay, it just said how Clifford was trying to sleep during the storm and had become frightened at the lightening and thunder. The picture was of Clifford covering his eyes with his overly large, red ears. The fourth page showed the morning sun. It was gleaming brightly on the page and almost hurt my eyes, strange huh?

It showed Clifford with a not-so happy look upon his face, but more of a face covered in paranoia and scares. It said &apos;Clifford woke up that morning, still scared of the noise and flashing lights from that night. He sat by Emily&apos;s window and waited for her to wake up.&apos; The fifth page showed Emily yawning and the bottom described how she giggled at Clifford&apos;s face and how worried he looked. &quot;Don&apos;t worry boy, the thunder storm has gone now, look how nice it is!&quot; Clifford didn&apos;t seem secure still, but tried to brush it off.

The next page consisted of two local dogs, Cleo and T-Bone, smiling up at Clifford, telling him to come and play in a big wooden house they&apos;d found. Page seven showed the three dogs in a large wood surrounded area, it looked like an empty room.

&quot;Clifford, Emily said how she was worried about how scared you were, how about sleeping here for the night? It&apos;s big, and you fit in and your nose won&apos;t get wet at all like in your kennel. You&apos;ll be okay in here I&apos;m sure!&quot; The little purple dog had said. The writing was in purple to represent who was speaking. Page eight consisted of Clifford lying down in the large wooden building with his eyes closed peacefully. It simply said &apos;Clifford slept well that night...&apos; I was reluctant to turn the next page, a bad feeling in my gut arose and I got worried about what was coming up next.

Curiosity killed the cat as I turned the next page to see the building on a slight angle with tears of lightening in the air behind it. At the bottom it said &apos;The lightening was close to Birdwell island...&apos;. Now I was really getting worried. &quot;Get a grip you moron, it&apos;s just a stupid children&apos;s book!&quot; I cursed at myself for being childish. &quot;...written by a ...psycho and...&quot;

I shook my head at the thought of who wrote it and turned the next page &quot;This book&apos;s not half bad anyway, considering what I was expecting...&quot;quot; My thoughts of it being an ordinary book were shattered when I saw the large wooden shed like building being struck by lightening, it no longer was a cartoon novel. Either Dren stepped up her game in those drawings and colours of hers, or that was a real photograph. &quot;I-I...What?!&quot; I questioned aloud to myself. &quot;What the bloody hell is this?!&quot;

Page ten was an image of the shed in pieces and a large red paw hanging from under the rubble. &apos;Clifford got hurt that night in his new home..&apos; was all the text said. The next page showed some police officer Pete standing by what was no longer rubble, but the lying body of a large red creature. It didn&apos;t show what happened, it just had a large silhouette of the man attempting to hide the body of the unfortunate soul. Page twelve almost had me vomit as it showed a life-like illustration of a dog&apos;s body cut open. It was in black and white and extremely realistic, as though it was an actual dog. &quot;no, no, no, no, no, no, no!&quot;

I mumbled to myself as I clutched my head. That wasn&apos;t Clifford, that was a photograph. It was my Labrador from two years ago. She went missing one day and the police said she&apos;d been found, ran over down the middle with what seemed to be a motorbike. I knew that was her, I recognized Lara from anywhere. That was in no way a drawing, nor was it Clifford.

Tears streamed down my eyes as I turned page 12 to see what was on the last page. To my surprise it was the same picture as the cover, but instead of the title &apos;Clifford the big red dog&apos;, it said &apos;Clifford, the big dead dog&apos; in a bone chilling red. I also looked closer into the final picture, it was not the exact same.

Emily wasn&apos;t hugging her dog. However, she was there, in the background. Looking past Jetta and Charlie, behind them was a tree, and a familiar blonde haired girl wearing a pink top, black skirt and stripped knee high socks, was hanging from it. Her body was limp and lifeless. She wasn&apos;t much more than a silhouette, but it chilled me to the bone, no pun intended.

I put the book back in my bag and went out. I went to go buy Anya a cute charm bracelet, it was worth all the money I had as I originally wanted to save it up. But I couldn&apos;t give her that...thing. Nor did I have any other present for her. I&apos;ve never looked at Clifford the same since, I can&apos;t stand watching the program or picking up another book. I tore up that copy using a paper shredder, the only copy that ever existed. The only time I&apos;ll see it now is in my nightmares.