Dogman -

Then I got the transfer request to the Northern Michigan Asylum for the Criminally Insane. My new patient was Edmund Croft.

Edmund was forty-three, a former hunting guide from the Upper Peninsula. He had no history of violence until three months prior, when he walked into a diner in Sault Ste. Marie, sat down, and said, "I saw it again." He then calmly described a series of thirteen murders spanning thirty years, all attributed to animal attacks. He confessed to none of them. He said the DogMan did it. DogMan

The current cluster began last month.

I found the pattern. Every twenty to thirty years, the sightings would cluster. A spike in missing persons in the Upper Peninsula. Then silence. Then another cluster. As if the creature hibernated for a generation, then woke up hungry. The last cluster ended in 1993. The year after I saw it. Then I got the transfer request to the

He looked at me for a long time. His eyes were the same color as the creature's. Amber. "To be seen," he whispered. "And to be forgotten. But mostly, to be seen." He had no history of violence until three

The first time I saw the DogMan, I was seven years old, staring through the fogged-up window of a school bus. We were idling at the crossroads of M-37 and Old Stage Road—a place the locals called "The Devil's Elbow." The other kids were laughing, throwing half-eaten apples at a stop sign. I was looking into the cornfield.