Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 41

The Comb
Daniel S. Liuzzi
The air was damp and cool, as a breeze pushed
through half naked branches making them discard
their brightly coloured leaves. Inside the woods the
air was damper and cooler, the colour wheel of the
canopy swayed above as it partially blocked the light
reaching the forest floor. A dirt hill overlooked piles
of moss green rocks that dotted the embankment of a
stream below. Paths cut into the woods lined by rock
and fallen tree limbs to help keep those who walked
upon them to find their way into and out of the forest. Chipmunks and squirrels darted up and down the
slopes, the birds sang and a garter snake basked in
what little sunlight penetrated to the forest floor. A
man and his mastiff walked side by side on the nature
trail on the fall morning.
The man was a bachelor in his mid-thirties. When not
working in an office he participated in triathlons, city
wide marathons and tough mudder races. As much as
he enjoyed the company of his friends, office buddies
and female admirers he enjoyed none more than his
trusted five year old Bull Mastiff, named Brute. On
this day his routine was like any other day off - he
woke up early to do some exercises from the “Intense”
program, a two and a half mile jog and a walk with
Brute in the woods. This had been the norm for a couple of years now. With his mastiff at his side the man
walked along the path in the woods maintained by
the town park officials. With Brute’s leash in hand the
dog could sniff the air and ground of his own free will
while the man used this walk as a form of meditation.
As the two walked along, the wind picked up and blew
through the tops of the tall trees, the sound of wildlife
filled the air as if nature was reciting a mantra. The
man checked his pulse as he looked at his fancy watch

with its digital compass. He relived conversations he’d
had yesterday: whether or not to take his car in for an
oil change, should he call and make a dentist hygienist
appointment, or should he try that protein shake his
buddy told him about. As thoughts, ran through his
mind like the marathons he took part in he caught a
flash out of the corner of his eye. The man stopped, his
mastiff walking a pace ahead of him before coming to
a halt, the man looked for the source of the flash and
saw something gleaming.
Whatever it was, it lay off the trail about thirty feet
into the woods. The man walked towards the object.
Stepping on rotting branches and crushing small ferns
on the way to the metallic shine. As the pair made
their way closer the man could finally see what the
source of the flash was. Lying next to a rock, as if just
dropped carelessly, was a silver hair comb. His desire
to know why it was there soon faded away at the sight
of the ornate decoration. The comb was lightly curved
with a row of eight teeth made for someone with fine
hair. The comb had a subtle overall shape but with
remarkable designs depicting vines and flowers. The
etching seemed hand etched but done so finely that it
would need to have been done by tiny hands.
Given the craftsmanship it most likely came from the
head of a bride who’d had wedding pictures taken of
her in these woods recently. Bride or not, silver was
silver and worth something, the man decided he would
hang onto it till he figured out what to do. As he bent
down to pick up the comb, Brute whined. The man
snatched up the ornate comb, taking a closer look only
to suddenly realize, the woods had fallen silent. As the
mastiff continued to whine in distress the man looked
around in disbelief, if not for his canine companion

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