If you see a comb by the side of the road, you leave it alone.

Old advice, and long forgotten, by the time I found the beautiful old-fashioned comb. Mother of pearl? I'm not sure what that even is, but this comb was… iridescent and shining clean. Cleaner than the path by the riverside where I found it. Some old-fashioned design and sitting on a rock, forgotten or dropped, like.

My girlfriend, at the time, she had the longest hair, and so a liking for nice combs and so on. I looked around a minute and, seeing as nobody was there to claim it as theirs, I took it and went on my way home. She loved it, of course, and threw her arms around me not even forcing me into the shower first, as she usually would after a day of work.

Well, now, that night. The dog wouldn't stay out - the big fella we had at the time, a german shepherd pitbull mix! Tough lad! - and I can't say I blame the poor bastard; I heard noises I can't rightly describe and I'd say he heard them twice as loud, being a dog. Screams rattling the windows but no words and not in fear or grief but… anger. As if someone was crying in rage louder than the wind on a fierce night. The windows were looking to come loose and the door too, the dog hiding under the bed like a wee pup. A terror.

Didn't sleep a wink and neither did the girlfriend. Hens were dead out the back the next day and the goats… it doesn't bear talking about. She ran off to her friend's the next morning, scared and crying, leaving the comb. Called me later on and told me she'd not be back that night and to put the comb out of the window once it started up again with something and absolutely not with my hands on their own or it would take them. Wouldn't listen to reason. And a good thing too.

It started up again the second night, dog hiding under the bed, windows and doors fit to fly out of their frames, screaming as you never heard, the whole thing, and I took a shovel, put the comb out a window, waited a moment, and pulled about two thirds of a shovel back in.The head was taken clean off. It laid off a bit then and didn't start again the next night. Poor dog was never quite the same and I had to buy my girlfriend the fanciest shiniest comb possible to make up for all of that.

As for me all I'll say is if you see a comb by the side of the road, you leave it alone.

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