The Haven of False Lights

Except for the steady click-clack of Agatha's knitting needles, the rain pounded on the dusty windowpane of the deserted petrol station. Agatha, a woman whose age eluded simple calculation, looked out at the lonely highway section. Her face was a mask of anticipation, worn from a lifetime spent in the scorching heat. This storm was a herald, not a bother. The guest would finally arrive tonight.

She smiled at a distant rumble, distinct from the thunder. An old pickup vehicle swaying to a halt in the empty lot was briefly illuminated by headlights cutting through the rain. Despite their apparent concealment as blades, Agatha's fist clenched around her knitting needles. No, they were artifacts from a more sinister era—sharpened bones. This was a predator waiting for prey, not a lone woman.

With a creak, the truck door opened, revealing a massive person. His garments were stuck to his body by the rain, yet his calculating and icy eyes saw everything. His aim was to survey the petrol station, not to flinch. Agatha was aware of the kind: a predator who thought she was its victim. She mumbled to herself, "Barking dogs seldom bite," a statement she planned to ruthlessly alter tonight.

At that moment, the man yelled, "Hey! You're in there! Let me in!"

Agatha stitched languidly through her row, the sound more like a rhythmic scrape of claws against stone. It was only then that she got up from her wobbly chair, moving in a way that was strange for a person her age. A deep growl came from the shadows behind her as she got closer to the entrance; it was a gigantic hound, its eyes gleaming like embers in the dim light. The man's arrogance wavered for an instant. Perhaps "barking dogs" wasn't the appropriate proverb in this instance.

With a small creak, the door opened to reveal Agatha's disconcerting smile. Her voice was a raspy whisper that made the man shudder. "Finally," she rasped. "Come in, dear guest, the storm has brought you to a haven."

The snarl grew louder behind him, pushing the man along even as he halted. The gas station inside was a horrible scene, with old oil company banners showing happy families among hideous monsters. A long-gone candy machine spat out weird, bone-shaped candies, and a skeletal hand with a chipped cup popped out of the soda fountain. Agatha pointed at a wobbly stool. "Sit."

Terror paralyzed the man as he sat. With unsettling dexterity, Agatha manipulated her shadow, causing it to morph and take on hideous forms on the wall. When she came back, the liquid in the mug was black and thick, and it smelled strange and harsh. "Drink," she yelled, pushing the mug in his direction. "It will ease your journey."

He drew back, but the growl behind him grew louder than hell. He tentatively took a sip, the liquid searing his throat until he gagged. Agatha lunged in before he could say anything. Her knitting needles pierced into his chest, oozing with a radiance that was sickening green. His cry was interrupted by a nauseating gurgling.

The hound materialized from the shadows, growing larger and more hideous as its form changed and blended with the gloom. Agatha gave its obsidian head a gentle pat, letting out a cold laugh. "See," she said, "sometimes, the barking dogs are the hungriest."

The victim was being devoured by the hound while the storm outside intensified, with the wind screaming like a choir of tortured souls. A flicker of power sent the fueling station into complete darkness. Agatha and the hound disappeared in an instant, leaving behind nothing but the resounding silence and the unsettling realization that the barking dogs in this place had done more than merely bite. They had gorged themselves.

The adage "Barking dogs seldom bite" refers to the infrequency with which threats or warnings are carried out. It suggests that a person is not a real threat if they make huge promises but don't follow through.

The meaning is broken down as follows:

Barking dogs: A person who is noisy and constantly threatens or warns others is referred to as such.

Seldom bite: This indicates that they hardly ever, if ever, carry on their threats.

Thus, the proverb implies that individuals who are continuously ranting or threatening you shouldn't be a major concern. More often than not, they will be all bark and no bite.

However, every rule has an exception. Agatha is tonight's exception