A single broken reed, one from the previous year, swayed above the new grass on a patch of undeveloped land. Swarms of mosquito larvae rose and settled in the black soil bordering a mud puddle. Maggots crawled out of the puddle to the thick, dark mud, then returned to the water.
A mangy dog with a bone in its mouth came slinking past the puddle and curled up next to a decaying log. After gnawing for a time on the already cleaned bone, the emaciated animal let it drop from its mouth, sniffed at the air, and rose. Completing a circuit of the surroundings, it returned to the bone.
A girl made a ball of mud and threw it at the dog as it licked the bone. The mud ball missed the dog, which hunched up and whimpered nonetheless.
The girl plopped herself down on her haunches and felt the boils on her calves, then drew her elbows in close to her sides and squirmed, as if the intermittent sunshine landing on her back tickled. A precocious smile played at the corners of her mouth.
The weather was as pleasant as could be.
The dog went toward the hut where the girl and her family lived, off to the side of the patch of undeveloped land. The girl’s grandfather emerged from the hut and called to her:
“Sweetie, come check on your father.”
But the girl remained squatting, her mouth still in a forced smile.
The girl’s grandfather noticed the dog’s bone underfoot. He found a large rock, placed the bone beneath it, and tamped down on the rock with his foot.
The dog disappeared behind the straw mat that draped the entrance to the hut.
Inside the hut the girl’s father brought an opium-filled syringe to his yellowish-blue arm. His hand shook so much that the syringe kept slipping as he tried to penetrate the skin. Brownish mucus ran from his dark, flared nostrils and gathered on his lips. Finally managing to insert the needle, he gradually became still.
The dog licked the girl’s father’s face with its milk-colored tongue and went back outside.
The dog was beside the puddle licking its bone. Its tongue looked even milkier now.
The girl came walking past the decaying log, followed by a boy with a book bag strapped to his back.
“Can you tell what’s in that dog’s mouth?” she asked.
The boy looked from the dog to the girl and shook his head.
“It’s a bone—a human bone!” With a satisfied smile the girl peered into the boy’s fear-stricken face. “Once that dog eats a hundred skeletons it’ll turn into a person. There are all kinds of bones here, you know. This place used to be full of graves. That puddle used to be a grave too. My grandfather was a grave keeper here. He still checks the graves every night. Pretty soon this place will be filled with big houses. Then there will be ghosts everywhere. The ghosts already put my mother under a spell and she ran off, and my father’s possessed and he’s going to die.”
The heavens could no longer hold back the rain. The dog kept shaking the rain from its fur, losing its balance, and toppling over.
The rain was followed by a gloomy night. The dog continually whimpered.
The girl’s grandfather looked off in the direction of the whimpering, then sat down on the log.
There was a wheezing sound beside the girl’s grandfather. A woman from the streets had sat down at the end of the log. The woman’s face and hands floated pale in the darkness, like a reflection on the surface of the puddle.
The girl’s grandfather rose and walked toward the hut. From behind him the wheezing came to a stop. He looked back. From beside the log came a feeble gesture—a hand, perhaps. He went back toward the log.
The faint outline of the hand had disappeared, nor was the woman herself there. The girl’s grandfather flinched, afraid of stumbling into a pine tree he knew was nearby, and came to a halt. Looking more closely, he spotted the pine, several steps in front of him.
From out of the gloom came the whimper of the dog.
Eyes closed, the girl’s father trembled. The dog’s tongue, darker now, licked his runny nose and his lips.
The dog left its bone beside the log and made a listless circuit of the surroundings.
Just as listlessly, the girl approached the dog. Her legs were still ridden with boils. Already the dog was yelping, tail between its legs.
The dog curled up beside the puddle and trembled. And as the dog trembled, the bone kept slipping from its mouth.
The girl brought another boy with a book bag strapped to his back. They sat down on the log.
“Can you tell what’s in that dog’s mouth?” she asked.
The boy shook his head.
“It’s a human bone. Once that dog eats a hundred skeletons it’ll turn into a person. There used to be graves all over here. You don’t have to dig too deep to find a lot of skeletons. Want to try?”
The boy promptly shook his head.
The girl, smiling to herself, observed his face and said, “My grandfather checks on these graves at night. He used to be a grave keeper here. Soon this place will be full of big houses, and then there will be ghosts everywhere. They’ve already possessed my mother, and she ran off. They’ve possessed my father too, and he’s going to die. When that happens, my grandfather will bury him and then that dog will dig up his bones.”
The dog was no longer able to hold the bone in its mouth
On a day when clear weather had given way to more rain, the dog fell dead to the ground.
* * *
The rain was lighter that evening but still cold.
The girl’s grandfather emerged from their hut with a shovel and set out toward the puddle.
A dark shape was moving near where the dog had died, and from the shape came a wheezing sound.
The girl’s grandfather quickly approached. He thought he caught a glimpse of the street woman’s milky face turned toward him, and then she ran off toward the street, the dead dog in her arms, and disappeared from view.
The grass on the patch of undeveloped land was higher now than the broken reed. The needles of the gnarled pine were greener.
The sun was stinging hot, and moss had reappeared on the decaying log, growing in crevices in the bark. Seductively green, the moss crawled with tiny red, threadlike insects.
Mosquito larvae once again thrived in the puddle. Maggots began to appear from the foul water. Cloudy or not, the sky was no longer reflected on the surface.
The bone hadn’t been touched since the death of the mangy dog. The girl’s grandfather finally noticed it, covered it with soil, and tamped the dirt down with his foot.
Fragments of earthenware dislodged by his foot shone blue in the sunlight.
The girl brought yet another boy with a book bag strapped to his back. Extending her boil-ridden leg, she said, “Here, squeeze as hard as you can, huh?”
The boy was slow to respond, and before his hand could reach her, the girl nonchalantly lay back on the ground where the dog had died, and squealed as if she were being tickled.