The beast of Brentford Dock

Something went growl in the night.

My nocturnal reverie was disturbed at three o'clock this morning by a cacophony of howling and pained screeches outside my bedroom window. It took me a moment to assimilate exactly what was happening - a moment or two longer to convince myself that I was not in fact dreaming, although the event did have a dreamlike quality.

I'd been woken by two animals clashing outside. I'd hazard one was a dog, but I'm not certain about the other. There was an almost feline quality to it's howls, but it wasn't a cat. A fox perhaps? It doesn't matter. I'd never heard anything like it before. The noises they made were furious, primal, and utterly terrifying. I doubt they were large creatures, but the fury with which they engaged each other was startling. I was listening to two creatures fighting for survival and it was horrifyingly brutal - a violence my cloistered existence left me unprepared to deal with. Perhaps it had something to do with just having woken - I honestly don't know - but I couldn't move, I didn't know how to react. The fight didn't last long, though it felt like an age to me. One animal fled - I don't know why - and the other was left behind, clearly injured, to judge from the pained gurgling sounds it made. After what I'd heard I was worried for it's survival and, recovering my senses, I rushed outside to see if I could help the poor beast. Unfortunately I probably scared it even more - by the time I got outside it was already some distance away and disinclined to come nearer. I wasn't wearing my glasses so all I could make out was a black shape limping away into the darkness. A second later it was gone. Another shadow in the night.

I went back inside and pondered what I'd witnessed before settling into a restless sleep.