The dog was blacker than night and larger than life. It unhinged its jaws and I looked into its maw and I saw every single secret I did not want to know about myself. I saw every way I was deluding myself, I saw all of my insecurities, all of my issues, all of the little lies I told myself and others.

These were things I didn't even know about myself, but the dog knew everything. He knew secrets I had forgotten; hidden moments that I never wanted to remember. He brought forth every single secret I had and I fell to my knees in front of him. He had shown me all my secrets and now he would swallow me whole.

There was a secret day I called in sick to work. I was tired and didn't want to get out of bed, so I called in sick and instead watched television all day. This was one of my secrets; I was ashamed at how mundane they were, at how banal they all seemed now. I almost wanted him to eat me up, so all my secrets could be forgotten after my death.

Almost.

My secrets bunched around me like flies and when I raised the gun, they flew into the barrel and made another bullet.

The dog growled. The gun barked. The bullet howled.