Back in the seventies, in an old rural town of Ogunquit, Maine, was a creature that could send even the soundest of men into fits of insanity and loss of their rationality. An old woman living off a rural dirt road, started the tale, when she had seen something in the woods off her back porch of her worn down shack. She told of the creature that haunted her dreams and made her day to day life almost impossible to live. She spoke of the creature, to the men in the pub, who didn't give a single lick of care to the old hag who went on in a tantrum. They only wished to finish their beers in peace and be left alone, for the description sent shivers down their spines.

She told of a creature, as tall as nine feet, it stood on four lanky legs connected to a dog's boney frame. The body contained no trace of fur, its skin a dark grey. Its back legs drooped, making it hunched on its front legs. Its neck long, dipping down, its head matching the height of any human it meets, to gaze into the eyes of its prey. Its ears pinned back, shaped like a dog, its muzzle shorter than a normal canine. The bottom jaw was clearly detached, dangling from the flesh that held it to the skull. A black slick tongue dangled out, swishing at the air, tasting, yearning, for its next meal. The most noticeable part was the cloudy eyes, that glowed white at night, seeming to entrance its victims with its fearsome gaze.

She went on, ignoring their hushing. "I swear to you, you drunken fools, I saw it..." She warned, a crazed look in her eye. "It's out to get my soul, it wants me, and you do nothing to help me!" She bellowed, her breath rich with coughing syrup and the strong licorice she choked down as a meal. "I swear. It's the Cŵn from lore."

"Enough, you old hag!" A lumberman barked out, slamming his overworked hand on the wooden bar top. His eyes stared at her with anger, patience worn thin. His coarse beard hiding the sneer on his lips, as they twitched up. His face worn, tired and annoyed. He didn't want to hear a single thing from the old hag, not one word. He didn't wish to be plagued of this nightmarish creature in his dreams tonight. The man, Simon, stood abruptly from his seat, the bar stool once beneath him, making an ungodly noise as it scratched along the bars wooden floor. Setting down some money for the bartender, he moved away, aggravation getting the best of him.

"Don't go out there! It feeds off the non-believers, it loves fearful prey!" The hag cackled, warning Simon of the outside dangers, to which the lumberman scoffed, pushing the wooden door to the bar open, and abruptly slamming it shut.

"Crazy wench." He grumbled beneath his breath, his boots scuffing against the dirt road. Stuffing his rough hands into his denim pockets, his grey plaid overcoat gently ruffled in the wind. The man held no fear of the outdoors, he had worked in the woods for most of his life, and he has never seen a creature as the one the woman wailed about. Stepping onto a nearby sidewalk, he strolled along the path, his mind thinking back to the woods and what the woman said.

The night was cold, dark, the moon hidden behind the endless clouds in the sky. Soft yellow light from the overcasting street lamps the only source of vision through the darkness. The road Simon walked was quiet, some houses had their kitchen lights on, while others were pitch black, the only sign of life within was the cars parked outside. Tugging his plaid overcoat closer, his steel blue eyes flickered over his surroundings, almost as if he would believe that lady and her warning. He mentally scolded himself, becoming paranoid, he was doing this to himself. He had to be. His eyes flickered up to the distant street light, its light flickered, slowly, tauntingly. At first, he swore he was dreaming, his mind was getting the best of him, but his eyes didn't lie. Something had been standing under the light, it's size almost unbelievable.

He paused, his whole-body stiff like a plank. His breathing had halted as well, his eyes glued to the lamp in the distance. The light took a moment, maybe mere seconds, before it flickered on again. Nothing. A relieved sigh left his lips, his body relaxed, adrenaline coursed its way through his stiff body. He was going crazy all cause of that woman, a stifled laugh escaped his throat, he was such a child. Taking a step forward, he began his way, continuing on, when from the corner of his eye, a large beast moved, its gate mechanical, moving its tall form at an unearthly speed. Without a second thought, Simon took off running, what in the hell was that!?

His lumbering boots hit the ground, his body fueled by fear and adrenaline. The sound of hoarse breathing filtered his ears, the sound was animalistic, sickly, gasping for air every step it took. He could feel its presence right behind him, trailing him like his own shadow. The smell of rotten flesh filled his nose, as he felt a hot breath against his neck. It was right on his heels. He let out a strangled cry, his body fighting him to go faster. Racing down the black top road, and across his neighbor's yard, he barreled onto his porch. He struggled with the door, his hands shaking, breathing frantic and mind racing. The creature had to be behind him. Grasping the handle, he took a quick look back. Nothing. He breathed, no, he swore something was there, he felt its humid breath against his neck, it was real. Steel eyes darted about like a wild rabbit that had been cornered.

Busting through his own door, he slammed it closed, quickly locking it, his body trembling with every breath he took. His knees wobbled, threatening to give out at any second. He looked out the window, squinting, nothing, absolutely nothing. Had he truly gone mad? Pushing himself away from the window, he shakily made his way from the living room. Swearing something had been after him. Moving up the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace, Simon managed to reach the top. The adrenaline dying away, leaving him sore and fearful. His body and mind forced him to the bathroom, to the nearest mirror. Slumping over the white porcelain sink, he stared at his reflection. Beads of sweat dripped from his greasy forehead, brows furrowed in question and steel eyes still wide from fear and the dying adrenaline. It was nothing more than a cruel joke, a joke his mind was playing on him, he was tired, it was nothing more than a play of the lights and the three bottles of beer he consumed only half an hour ago.

Trying to take ahold of his running thoughts, a noise, a soft thud, from the dark kitchen from downstairs jolted his mind back into reality. No... The window, a brief moment of realization hit him, this morning he had opened the window for some fresh air and never closed it. Another noise sounded, a dish falling. Crashing to the tiled floor. Sending a jolt of fear through his spine. Something was crawling through the window of his kitchen. In the moment of fear, he shut the light off, moving out into the hallway. His heart began to beat like a drum as he edged his way to the stairs, his body moved ever so gradually to the edge, wanting to peak over, wanting to see what was there. Guess the curiosity was too much, for what waited below at the bottom of the stairs was a pair of white glowing eyes, staring back up at him. Body freezing, his steel eyes stared into the white eyes, the creature below doing the same. He hesitantly began to move his arm up to the stairways light, his finger hovering over the switch, shaking.

Flicking the light on, he saw the creature, exactly as the hag had described, the awful gut-wrenching odor wafted up into his nose as the Cŵn raised its head, the lower jaw rocked loosely before opening more, its throat expanding as the tongue lashed widely. Inhaling sharply, he moved back as the creature began to move, making a violent moaning sound as it made its way up the stairs at him, its gate so long it cleared four steps easily. Steel eyes widening, he frantically moved away, running to his bedroom in a last-ditch effort to avoid the creature now in his house. Slamming the door to his room, he rushed to the closet. The closet's door a louvered bifold, he pulled the two doors together. Backing up into his hanging shirts, he held his breath, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind, his eyes shut tightly, refusing to look out the louvers. The house was silent, nothing banged on his door, no sounds made. Though Simon was far too gone, he feared what was outside and didn't dare to make any movement or sounds of his own.

If he had only listened to the hag, if he had only heeded her warning, he would have known, he would have been safe. Yet here he was, trapped in his closet in his own home, a creature of nightmare lurking through his halls and he simply had no escape. Why had he been so stubborn? Why hadn't he listened to the foolish woman? It felt like hours, was its morning yet? Would it leave when the sun's rays finally pierced the horizon? His body begged him to sit, to rest, for standing was making him weak, his legs stung, never being used as much as they were now. Before he could even adjust, he heard it, the doorknob. It jiggled, something was turning it, and it succeeded. With a light click, he heard the door, slowly creaking open. The sound of the door made his heart drop, keeping his eyes shut, refusing to open them, mentally refusing to see what would happen. The sound of claws clicking on his wooden floor, slowly approaching the closet, made him realize, there was no place he could hide, this creature, this thing, knew where he was. He didn't hear the closets doors move; he didn't hear anything. It was quiet. Finally, in desperation, he opened one eye. Through the louvered slits, he saw the glowing eyes, staring right back at him. He quickly shut his eye, hoping it hadn't seen.

His hopes weren't strong enough, the soft noise of the door opening shot a stinging pain through his heart, it felt as if it stopped. It knew. He could smell it, hear its forced breathing. The creature loomed over him; a sickening cracking noise was heard as he felt the slick gooey tongue rest on his neck. Slowly wrapping around his throat as it moved onto him. Simon couldn't feel anything anymore, his eyes remained squeezed shut, as his knees wobbled, not remembering that he hadn't breathed this whole time. His lungs stung as his stomach ached, his heart began to slow, his body slowly slumping to the ground as the creature remained hovering, mouth over the Lumbermans head.

"I told you. I told you, you foolish drunks!" The hag shouted, standing behind the yellow tapeline, a couple fellow friends of Simon, stood solemnly, heads hung. A paramedic team pushed out a gurney, upon the table was the body of Poor Simon, the young man had died of fright, his eyes glued shut and his fists clenched so tightly, the nails had pierced his palms and made them bleed. The police couldn't find any signs of foul play, no signs of anything in the house, no sign of forced entry, no marks on his body, nothing. The only ruling they could make, was that the young man had to be suffering from 'psychoses', A mental disorder causing hallucinations. It was rare, but the only explanation they could come up with. Like and open and shut case, they ruled his death 'Natural causes' but everyone in the little town of Ogunquit knew better, Simon didn't die from anything natural. The towns people kept everything locked tight, refusing to let what crept in the night, inside. Protecting themselves from the creature, the Cŵn.

Best keep your windows closed. 

( This character is my original OC, Please do not copy or steal, Thank you~)