Sunday, June 23, 2013
Wolves
The wind whistled solemnly against my ear, a sort of moanish, tired whisper. I smothered the weak, yellow fire over my campsite and set into my tent, completely regretting my goggled swim in the sticky, stench-filled bug-spray. I sneezed.
My tent was a dark, camouflaging bluish-black, partially met with a vanilla-white color at the top. I couldn't help rubbing my nails against its fabric for that soft, zizzly overlapping plastic sound.
Slipping out of my gigantic polo vest, I snuggled into my similarly textured sleeping bag. Getting comfortable, I began to feel my eyes flicker. And then I heard it.
A strong, angry howling, East of my tent. Followed with similar wolf calls, the voice grew closer. I closed my eyes. "Oh, please no." I grabbed my rifle and held close to the trigger.
Suddenly, I saw a dog-like shadow close against the walls of my shelter. I winced, hugging the rifle closer to my chest. In truth, I'd never used a gun before. I didn't understand its potential. So guiltlessly, I shot.
For moments, there was no other sound. Just silence and realization. But then came moans. Shrieks. Screams. Against the better good, I peered through the open tent.
I had shot a mother. Her cub and pack right beside, mourning. This wasn't right. Mothers stayed behind. Cubs didn't hunt! My world began to spin. Slowly, one by one, wolves dove toward me, baring fangs and hissing threats. I dropped my weapon and let them.
My tent was a dark, camouflaging bluish-black, partially met with a vanilla-white color at the top. I couldn't help rubbing my nails against its fabric for that soft, zizzly overlapping plastic sound.
Slipping out of my gigantic polo vest, I snuggled into my similarly textured sleeping bag. Getting comfortable, I began to feel my eyes flicker. And then I heard it.
A strong, angry howling, East of my tent. Followed with similar wolf calls, the voice grew closer. I closed my eyes. "Oh, please no." I grabbed my rifle and held close to the trigger.
Suddenly, I saw a dog-like shadow close against the walls of my shelter. I winced, hugging the rifle closer to my chest. In truth, I'd never used a gun before. I didn't understand its potential. So guiltlessly, I shot.
For moments, there was no other sound. Just silence and realization. But then came moans. Shrieks. Screams. Against the better good, I peered through the open tent.
I had shot a mother. Her cub and pack right beside, mourning. This wasn't right. Mothers stayed behind. Cubs didn't hunt! My world began to spin. Slowly, one by one, wolves dove toward me, baring fangs and hissing threats. I dropped my weapon and let them.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Realization
I giggled excitedly inside my nightgown, just barely escaping discovery. Lightly crashing into my covers, I began to hear voices. Sighing, I closed my eyes, knowing the conversation did not concern me. Still, my ears pricked slightly. I could see Mummy's shadow casted against the vanilla walls of the hallway, long and thin, addressing Daddy humorlessly. I listened on.
"What will we do?" Daddy asked, set in a worried, pressured tone.
"Shhhh! So not to wake the child!" Mummy hushed, whispering much louder than Daddy ever spoke. "And as for now, we must flee."
"Run?" he asked, still not whispering. "After everything, we run?"
"After Jimmy's... leaving, we must."
I gasped, recognizing that word- "leaving". And, Uncle Jimmy, he was the one who lost caused Mummy's baby's miscarriage. Fleetingly, a memory alit my mind.
Uncle Jim's warm, cocoa brown eyes and deep oak-colored mustache entered the living room, coughing up their entrance.
"Ahem." He stated, failingly attempting to shrink his massive, clumsy, shadow. "Uha... Uh... hi, Lina. Jack," he turned toward me, "Joe Anne," and nodded embarrassedly.
Noticing the silence, I didn't respond. After a while, Mom finally stopped sipping coffee and stood up.
"Can I get you something to drink, Jim?" Uncle Jimmy nodded. "A uh... Water, if-if you would."
Mum stepped briskly out of the room, not caring to nod or even answer. I barely moved.
Mummy came back with water and set it on the table. "Here, Jimmy."
From my view, the water seemed a tad discolored. I could say the same for Mom.
Jimmy, politely, drank.
Last of Uncle Jim, was then, 'far as I could tell. But now, I saw it differently than choking water. I his under the covers.
"What will we do?" Daddy asked, set in a worried, pressured tone.
"Shhhh! So not to wake the child!" Mummy hushed, whispering much louder than Daddy ever spoke. "And as for now, we must flee."
"Run?" he asked, still not whispering. "After everything, we run?"
"After Jimmy's... leaving, we must."
I gasped, recognizing that word- "leaving". And, Uncle Jimmy, he was the one who lost caused Mummy's baby's miscarriage. Fleetingly, a memory alit my mind.
Uncle Jim's warm, cocoa brown eyes and deep oak-colored mustache entered the living room, coughing up their entrance.
"Ahem." He stated, failingly attempting to shrink his massive, clumsy, shadow. "Uha... Uh... hi, Lina. Jack," he turned toward me, "Joe Anne," and nodded embarrassedly.
Noticing the silence, I didn't respond. After a while, Mom finally stopped sipping coffee and stood up.
"Can I get you something to drink, Jim?" Uncle Jimmy nodded. "A uh... Water, if-if you would."
Mum stepped briskly out of the room, not caring to nod or even answer. I barely moved.
Mummy came back with water and set it on the table. "Here, Jimmy."
From my view, the water seemed a tad discolored. I could say the same for Mom.
Jimmy, politely, drank.
Last of Uncle Jim, was then, 'far as I could tell. But now, I saw it differently than choking water. I his under the covers.
Friday, June 21, 2013
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