Understory, Fall 2026—Issue I (Digital Edition)

the dog

By Rutger Middelburg

It’s still hot, even this late at night. To my left the sun is sinking slowly into the sea. Cool waves wash lazily over my feet as I stroll along the shoreline, heading North. Not that I have anywhere up there I need to get to. So, after a while, I stop walking; face the sea; take a step forward, and another.

This is really why I’m here.

To stand here, feeling the ocean connect with my feet. The ocean, which is connected to all the seas and oceans of the world; miles deep; thousands of miles across; a single connected body of water, huge beyond any human comprehension. Finally, I feel a peace come over me that I hope to take back home with me.

I’m still standing there, enjoying both the overwhelming size and power of the oceans and the peace and quiet of the moment, when she suddenly knocks me over. No kidding, that’s what she does; she runs into me at full speed, knocking me clear off my feet.

“Oh…God…!” She pants and gasps, while she puts her hands on her knees and bends over me. “Oh my god…I’m so sorry!”

I look up into possibly the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. Those eyes are so beautiful they almost make me forget to scan down. It takes me a while to recover and fully appreciate the sharp but delicately featured face, framed very nicely by short black hair. Then, I finally do look further down. How nice of her to bend over me like that. Especially with her chest still heaving from the running, while she’s wearing something light blue that I’m not entirely sure about. Is it a bikini, or a rather minimalistic training top? Whatever it is, it seems to serve more to accentuate than to hide.

I like it!

I also like the perfectly flat abdomen beyond, and the smooth, if somewhat thinnish legs, sticking out of the black running shorts she’s wearing.

“Whatta…?” I start. But she’s already kneeling down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes with what seems to be genuine concern.

“I’m sorry.” She repeats. “I wasn’t paying attention and with it getting dark and everything…” Her voice trails off, imploring me to fill in the rest for her. I willingly oblige. At this point, I would probably willingly oblige if she implored me to stab my own eyes out. But that’s a different problem.

“Sure, sure…” I therefore agree with her. “Can happen. Nobody died!”

“Still,” She insists. “I feel bad. Can I offer you a drink or something?”

I would go for the “or something”, but I doubt that’s what she’s really offering. A drink might be a nice start anyway. And so, I nod in response.

“Great!” She smiles like I just did her a major favor. “I live just down the beach.”

The house is truly gorgeous, its view magnificent, its size overwhelming, its decoration tasteful, yet clearly very expensive. It must be worth millions. I can’t be more precise than that. I have absolutely zero knowledge of the relevant real estate market, since there is no way that I’m ever going to get anywhere near being able to afford anything even very, very remotely like this.

Vesper, for that is her name, giggles girlishly as I look around awestruck. When she told me her name, I told her mine is Mike. For the life of me, I don’t know why. When I pass a low cabinet that’s sitting up against the wall, next to the half-open kitchen, an obsidian statue of a dog catches my eye. It’s about half-a-foot high and quite nicely done. That’s not what catches my eye, though. The iridescent stones used for its eyes do. Predominantly blueish-green colors move around in those eyes, making it seem as if the dog is alive and really looking at me.

“Don’t get too impressed, none of it’s really mine. Just housesitting for a rich uncle.” Vesper confides in me. As I turn around to face her, she pushes a cold bottle of beer into my unresisting hand.

“So, where’s the uncle?”

“Probably somewhere back home in Mexico. Then again, he could also, just as easily, be in Colombia or something. Wherever they produce drugs, I guess. Don’t know any of the details, and really rather keep it that way. I’m pretty sure the business he’s doing there is not entirely legal, and I prefer to maintain a certain plausible deniability.”

“Sure, sure, I agree distractedly. I was never really interested in the uncle anyway. Besides, who could possibly argue against the benefits of plausible deniability?

“I love this place so much! I can’t really give a fuck how he pays for it.” Vesper adds.

After we’ve been drinking on the deck for a while, Vesper asks me where I live.

“Way over there.” I tell her, while gesturing expansively in the general direction of the land behind us, where all the poor people live. “Don’t have any rich uncles, putting me up at the beach, unfortunately.” I add after a moment’s consideration.

“Could buy your own beach house.” She suggests with a sarcastic little sneer.

“I would, my dear.” I answer her in my best mock-posh voice. “But I’m currently, as per usual, completely and totally, utterly impecunious.”

Vesper laughs a little too enthusiastically at this, which makes me wonder if it’s the alcohol or if she’s faking a laugh on purpose, for my benefit. If I have to guess her age, I’d say she’s somewhere very early in her twenties, which would give me about a decade on her. Still, she did invite me over here, kept giving me more beers, and is now laughing at my really lame joke. There seems to be only one way to read this situation. I still don’t know if she’s just looking for a random, anonymous, one-time fuck, or if she’s really attracted to me. Either way, if she lets me, I’m definitely doing her.

And she lets me, sitting on top of me, right there on the deck.

I always like outdoor sex. After all, who doesn’t? This time is even better, though; because it’s at the beach, but without the inconvenience of all the sand and chafing; and it’s with probably simultaneously the hottest, the prettiest, and the cutest girl I’ve ever fucked, which is a rare and beautiful combination indeed.

I wake up when the sun shines in and starts baking my head. Disoriented and a little befuddled, I look around. It’s not the first time I wake up confused in an unknown bed, though, and I regroup quickly enough. Turns out, I’m completely naked, as is Vesper. Now, that’s truly a thing of pure beauty, and I consider waking her.

I immediately think better of it, though. It’s the eternal problem when waking up next to someone you really don’t know all that well. I have absolutely no idea what she’s expecting from me. Was this a one-time, quick fuck, does she expect me to marry her, or anything in between? If expectations are mismatched, it’s bound to get more awkward than having breakfast together is worth.

Better to let her sleep, then. So, I quietly slip out of the bedroom.

After some considerable searching, I finally locate my swimming trunks out on the deck. There’s a small whiteboard attached to the fridge, and I jot down a quick note for Vesper: “Had to run, will stop by tonight!”

That way, if she doesn’t want to see me again, she can simply make sure she isn’t here tonight. Will be a minor bruise to my ego, but still much better than taking it right in the face.

As I close the door behind me, a car pulls up aggressively. It’s an efficient looking sportscar, probably German or something: black, with dark windows, and over-sized, matte-black, metal rims, obviously expensive. A guy in a tracksuit jumps out. He has long hair, neatly combed back, and a beard clearly very carefully cultivated to look slightly shabby. This guy has drug dealer written all over him—not the cheap, standing-on-a-street-corner, selling-one-gram-pouches variety, though. He is a businessman, respectable and distinguished, if only in certain circles.

“Who the fuck are you?” He immediately snarls at me.

“Tobias.” I tell him. For the life of me, I don’t know why.

“You’re Vesper’s latest fuck-boy?” He demands threateningly, which is made even more threatening by the realization that he’s probably some kind of cartel big shot, or at the very least a medium shot. I nod nervously, and he grins evilly at me.

“You do realize I don’t give a damn who my little niece decides to fuck this week, do you?”

I nod again. Can’t wait to get out of here. I feel the weight of the little obsidian dog menacingly in my left hand, which I try to keep behind my back. Not too far, though; has to look natural. Why did I decide to take it anyway? Vesper already told me about her uncle’s business. What was I thinking? Who in their right mind would ever consider stealing from a Mexican drug lord?

Luckily, he’s not expecting anyone to be stupid enough to steal from him and so has absolutely zero suspicion. If he notices me acting nervous and unnatural, he’s probably writing it all off on me fucking his little niece.

Safely back home, where neither Vesper nor her scary uncle can find me, I inspect the little dog closely. It is a truly beautiful, delicate, little work of art. The way its eyes keep following me around the room, is actually more reassuring than it is creepy.

I would really love to keep it, but there’s no point; no rational reason I can think of. It must be worth a small fortune and not cashing in on that fortune is the implicit equivalent of explicitly spending that fortune on acquiring the statue. I can’t afford to spend a small fortune on a nice little statue that’s always looking reassuringly at me. So, being the poor bum that I am, and therefore lacking any relevant contacts in the black market for fine arts, I have to take it to a pawnshop.

After some serious haggling, we settle on a price of a thousand dollars. I’m rich beyond my wildest dreams. Yet, I’m also pretty sure I just got cheated big time. I decide to let it go and just enjoy my newfound fortune.

Still, there is the promise I made to Vesper, if only in writing, that I would be back tonight. I really liked that girl, even if she was too young, too hot, and too pretty-by-far for me.

I know I should stay away. If the uncle notices the missing dog, I’ll be on his suddenly-short-list. That is, his list of people with suddenly-short life expectancies.

Yeah, I should really stay far, far away.

My hand is actually shaking when I ring the bell. It doesn’t get any better when the door opens, either.

‘Who are you?’ A short but very strong looking man demands instantly. His menacing looks would immediately have him type-cast as the drug cartel’s “clean-up guy” in any extremely violent action movie. I’m pretty sure he has been similarly type-cast in real life.

“I’m Rob.” I answer. For the life of me, I don’t know why.

“Don’t fucking lie!” Vesper’s uncle yells from behind the squat clean-up guy. “That’s Tobias! Get him in here right now!”

Before I can even think of running for my life, the clean-up guy already has my arm turned behind my back and pushed up so high, I’m sure I won’t be able to move it normally for the next couple of weeks. That is, if there is a next couple of weeks for me, which I suddenly find horribly doubtful.

I find myself back in the bed, naked again, all tied up this time.

Any other circumstances, and especially with two less Mexicans in the room, and this could have been great. As it is, I’m doing the best I possibly can to stop from shitting myself. I’ve done some stupid things in my life and, on occasion, also had enough time to reflect on them, so I could properly dread the consequences. Never before, though, have I been either this scared, or this sure I have reason to be.

“There’s no point denying it.” Vesper’s uncle tells me amicably. “We know you took it. We already talked to Vesper about it.”

The clean-up guy is standing to my left, holding a foot-long knife in one hand and a hammer in the other, grinning maniacally. As I glance nervously in his direction, I notice a shape on the floor behind him. It’s clearly a naked female body. The legs may be a bit thinnish, but generally speaking it is clear that it is one very hot body. It appears to be covered in smears of blood. I involuntarily gasp, as I realize that Vesper is probably dead because of me.

“Yeah.” Her uncle tells me, as he stands over me. “See what you made me do to my poor little niece? But see, thing is, in the end, she did convince us she didn’t take my little doggie. She’s not a thief, just a poor house sitter, cuz she’ll let anyone with a dick come in here, and of course in her, and then she won’t pay attention while they’re robbing me blind; and by they I mean you. Now, I don’t know what you know about me, but let me explain what we do to thieves, where I come from…”

“I didn’t do a thing!” I blurt out and immediately feel a sharp stabbing pain in my right forearm. I look over there to see the hilt of the clean-up guy’s knife sticking out of it. The blade seems to have disappeared somewhere.

“Stop fucking lying and tell me where this pawnshop is!” Vesper’s uncle tells me threateningly, while holding up the ticket stub.

I glance over at Vesper and feel tears welling up.

“Good grief!” Vesper’s uncle exclaims. “You don’t mind a fucking knife through your arm, but the sight of poor little Vesper makes you cry?”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to encourage any more knives being stuck into my arms, or any other places for that matter. Still, there’s hardly any point in denying that the thought of what these brutes might have done to Vesper hurts me on a completely different, somehow much more profound level.

Then, Vesper stirs.

My breath stops, as I jerk my head back in her direction. Vesper’s uncle clearly reads my reaction correctly.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d kill my own niece?” He asks incredulously. “I’m not a barbarian, you know? What? Just cuz I’m Mexican, you assume I’ll kill anyone who displeases me a bit? That’s fucking racist, you know? I only want my dog back. Vesper is just sleeping off the buzz. We gave her some heroin for the pain. We don’t let family suffer...anymore than necessary. More importantly, nobody has to die here today, as long as everyone just cooperates a little. Dead people are terribly inconvenient to have in this country, anyway. Too fucking hard to get rid of properly. Just tell me where the fuck my dog is, and we’ll all go our separate ways.”

That does sound appealing. So, I tell him which pawnshop the dog is at.

He makes a call and then we all wait. Vesper has completely woken up by now and is sitting huddled up and very quiet in the corner. After what seems like an eternity, Vesper’s uncle gets a call back, he gestures towards the clean-up guy, and they both leave the room without a word.

Vesper and I remain frozen until we hear the front door fall shut. Then, she gets up slowly, obviously painfully. She walks over to me and, without a word, pulls the knife from my arm, which actually hurts more than sticking it in there did. Wordlessly she then continues to cut the ropes that hold me tied to the bed.

“I think we could both do with a shower, right about now.” She finally says, when she’s all done. I’m not entirely sure what is going on here, but about a minute later we’re in the shower together. A very short shower, and we’re bandaging each other’s cuts and getting dressed.

“What were you thinking?” Vesper finally asks, as we get into my car.

“I wasn’t really. I admit reluctantly.

“Clearly!” She is silent, then, and so am I.

“What did you come back for, though?” She asks when we’re already on the freeway.

“You!”

“That’s really stupid, you know?”

“I guess, maybe. I don’t know, really. Anyway, couldn’t stay away…”

“Then, why did you steal the dog? You could’ve come back, or you could’ve stolen the dog. Either, but not both!”

“Couldn’t resist that either. It was the way it kept looking at me. I had to have it.”

“But you pawned it!”

“Yeah, really didn’t want to. But I’m still broke, you know. This would’ve tied me over for about two months.”

“You’re really pathetic, you know that?” She asks, looking at me sideways.

“Yeah…” I nod, and we go back to silence, until I pull up in front of my apartment.

“I do appreciate you coming back.” Vesper tells me softly, as I turn the ignition off.

“Now what, though?” I ask her.

“Now, I’m staying with you, cuz you lost me my stunning beach house. We wait until my uncle leaves the country and go get that dog back!” She tells me firmly.

“What?”

“There’s something about that dog, something special. It was the first thing he noticed when he got home. Also, he saw you leave, already guessed you took it. Still, he decided to cut me up a bit, just to be sure. I’m his favorite niece. He wouldn’t do that for just any little statue that happened to go missing while I was there. There’s something about that dog, something we’re not seeing but makes it worth much, much more than we think it is.”

“The eyes!”

“What about them?”

“Well, what kind of stones are they, anyway? They’re something special. It’s why I took it in the first place.”

Whatever those stones are, we know we have to get our hands on them. So, after some serious staking out, when we’re pretty sure Vesper’s uncle hasn’t been at the beach house for at least three days and we are therefore convinced he has at least left the city and probably the country, we wait for the dark, climb onto the deck, and force the cheap lock of the backdoor open with a screwdriver and hammer. Of course, the dog isn’t sitting where it used to. Vesper’s uncle isn’t that stupid. For a few moments we just stand there, looking around hopelessly in the darkness.

“I thought I told you, I never wanted to see either of you again!” Vesper’s uncle tells us threateningly while the lights come on, leaving us blinking against the sudden glare.

“Looking for this?” He adds. As our eyes adjust to the light, we can now finally see he’s holding up his left hand, and in it is the little obsidian dog which we indeed were looking for. I nod reluctantly, trying not to think of what’s about to come. It’s doubtlessly going to be painful and most likely very final as well.

“You know?” Vesper’s uncle continues. “It’s not even very expensive. Probably worth less than half what you got for it at the pawnshop; great job negotiating, by the way. Really not worth dying for at all.”

He sighs theatrically, before looking over at Vesper.

“My dear little Vesper. My evening star…” He tells her in melancholy tones. “Too, fucking bad!” He adds with a mirthless smile, while raising his right hand. I was so mesmerized by the dog in his left that I haven’t even noticed the gun in his right. He’s already pointing it at Vesper and, before I can think better of it, I jump in front of her.

The sound of the gun is overwhelming, and the pain is far worse than I could ever have dreamed.

Vesper screams as I fall and there’s another deafening bang, even before I hit the floor. Looking back over at Vesper, I’m surprised to see her standing there, apparently unharmed. It takes a few moments to realize she’s also holding a gun. Turning my head the other way, I see her uncle on the floor, moving spasmodically, grabbing with both hands at the hole in the middle of his chest, dog and gun lying beside him. Vesper now steps over me, bends over her uncle, puts the gun against his temple, and pulls the trigger again. He is now very clearly dead.

Vesper comes back over to where I’m still struggling to breathe, while I slowly bleed out, unable to get up. Covered in blood spatter, she bends over me and kisses me lightly on my forehead.

“Thanks for saving me. He almost got me there. Kinda surprised me. Never expected the sneaky bastard to start with me.” She tells me.

Then, she walks away. A little after, I hear the shower running, and soon she returns all cleaned-up, wearing fresh clothes, and carrying the bloody ones in a plastic bag.

“You know?”’ She asks, while casually heading in my direction. “I always knew the dog wasn’t worth much. It was the perfect motivator for you, though, and I needed your help getting even with my pathetic uncle. Always knew he’d be waiting for us. He can be so fucking predictable sometimes. Thing is, the scars from his cuts will never fully heal. I was perfect, you know? My body was perfect! And now it will never be perfect again. All because of the two of you!”

I feel myself getting weaker, as I keep bleeding, keep struggling to breathe. I know I can’t possibly have a lot of time left. Meanwhile, Vesper keeps explaining.

“See, the valuable stuff is in the safe. He didn’t know I knew, of course. I’m not stupid, though. I had months and months all by myself in this place, more than enough time for a girl to put up a few hidden cameras.”

She walks out of sight again. I hear her rummaging around somewhere behind me. It could easily be the sound of a painting being removed. Then, the sound of a code being entered into a keypad, and, finally, of a safe door being opened.

“You know?” Vesper asks, as she reaches the front door. “It could’ve even worked, if only you hadn’t stolen the fucking dog. I mean, in the beginning, I really liked you. I liked fucking you more than I like fucking most guys. I could’ve loved you, in spite of you being an old-fart and a worthless bum. That’s my type, actually. I know it shouldn’t be, cuz it always causes shit like this, but there you have it. Perfect body, not-so-perfect taste in men. Could’ve had a great life together, sponging off my stupid uncle indefinitely. But noooo! You had to go and get smart and steal the man’s stupid, worthless, fucking dog statue. You do realize, I’m going to leave you here to die, right? I hope it hurts! Well, so long and fuck you!”

With that she tosses the little obsidian dog in my direction and slams the door shut behind her even before the dog shatters on the floor, scattering diamonds all over as it does.

I can’t help but smile wryly, as it seems only fitting; ironic, like I always expected it to end.

Rutger Middelburg is a writer, editor, and epidemiologist. He lives in the Netherlands with his two children. He writes both short fiction and novel length works. His short fiction has been published in several literary journals and anthologies. He doesn't want to choose a single genre to write in, because he loves too many of them.