Wolf Pack Dreams - Part 2

Coral cringed as a familiar voice slithered down her spine and made her feel dirty as it touched her.  The expected hand fell on her shoulder, but to her surprise, it lifted quickly.  She looked behind her and found another familiar, but somehow comforting sight greet her eyes.

"Bob, what have I told you about putting your hand on her shoulder?  And I don't care if you have some excuse about needing to get her attention!  You wouldn't try to get my attention, or the boss's attention that way, so keep your damned hands off!"  The grey haired man spoke with authority, but he was just another worker within the building.

"Hey, you don't even work here!"  Bob backed up a step as the larger man seemed to growl under his breath.

"Correction.  I don't work for you."  He dismissed the slimy man with merely a look, and Bob took the opportunity to leave the area.  He looked down at Coral, but was careful to keep his eyes locked on hers, and not let them fall lower then the jawline.

"Thank you."  She was about to say something else, but he shook his head.

"Don't.  Next time, say no."  She frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Fools like that only find confidence in those they feel they can bully, or intimidate.  Don't let them.  Tell him to keep his hands off.  If he becomes agitated, leave the room, and go to your boss.  Don't let him gain power over you."  He ran his fingers through his hair, a sign of his anger at the situation, and growled lightly.  Then, to her surprise, he left the room.





Coral pondered his words for the rest of the day, and since Bob had not shown his face again, she had no way of testing his assertion.

Night came as it always did, and once again, she was deep within the forest, and covered in sweat.

"Why?"  She yelled.  "Every night and I still come here!"  A growl to her left startled her.  She turned and saw a face she knew, and sighed.  It was her gray furred wolf.

"Finished running?  And here I thought I would have some more fun before the night was done!"  She turned to the monster, and growled.

The dream took on a life of its own from that point.  The wolf stalked up to her side, growled and snarled at the monster in her dreams, and she lowered herself down to all fours.  She growled and snarled along with him.

His laughter ran over her, but she shook it off like water, and lunged forward.  The wolf kept pace with her and two large bodies crashed into the slimy creature who filled her nightmares with more blackened and terrified cries then any other nightmare ever could.

Teeth and claws ripped and tore the beast apart.  Her teeth.  Her claws.  The wolf snarled and growled while he watched her rip her monster to shreds.

Yes, her monster.  She finally had to admit it to herself.  She drew the nightmares to her with her fear.  For the first night in many years, she had conquered her fears, and her dream was her own.

She wiped her chin and spat out the putrid blood on her tongue.  the wolf bounded back and laughed like a hyena again.  She jumped off the body that no longer moved, and ran after him.  She was still on all fours, and he led her on a chase that made her smile.

The wind rolled over her fur and she saw the forest with new eyes.  Rabbits ran here and there, owls hooted overhead as they hunted their prey, and her wolf ran ahead of her, a hyena's laugh that drew her on.

She caught him at the water's edge, and they rolled, a tangled mess of limbs, into the ocean's warm waters.  Normally this time of year, they would be freezing cold, but within her dream, they were as warm as bath water.

She smiled as she pinned him to the warm wet sand, and a gentle paw wiped a blood stain from her cheek.  She closed her eyes and leaned into that gentle touch.  She growled in surprise as she opened her eyes.  Somehow, he squirmed out from under her.  Instead of continuing the game, he sat beside her, and pasted himself to her side.

She smiled, followed his lead, and looked to the sky.  Together, they closed their eyes, and howled to the moon.

The moon saw her tears every night for well over a decade, but tonight, it saw something else.  It did not witness her torment, or her nightmares.  It did not see the monster win, or see her relive her agony.

Tonight, it saw her wolf pack dream.

Short Story - Wolf Pack Dreams

(This is an unedited dream meant only as a beginning)



"Every night!"  She whispered fearfully.  The landscape was familiar.  It was her home town, along the edge of the community, and the place it had happened.  It happened there most every night since, and always in her dreams.  Her nightmares.

'It' always started the same way.  The prickling of the hairs on her neck, and that cold laughter.  Tonight, the moon was out full, and it made her take note of something never seen in her dream before.

"Grr."  On the edge of the clearing stood a very large gray wolf.  It paced back and forth, never taking his eyes off her as she huddled down low in the chill autumn air.  Her dress was damp, and the wet material pulled away any body heat she had, which made it an even more miserable event.  She didn't know how that was possible.

The wolf growled and snarled at her as it paced several yards away, but she didn't move from her spot.  She tried to run before, but the monster always caught her.  She always ended up back at this spot, and his cold laughter always started that ball of dread to form in her belly.  The wolf growled louder as her thoughts turned to the darkness.

"What?"  She asked the wolf, louder then she expected.  He growled again, and bared his teeth.  Then she heard that sickening laughter from behind her.

"Finished running?  Aw, its no fun when you stop fighting."  His words crawled through her like bile rising when she was about to vomit.  Sometimes, she would wake up right now, and throw up all over herself.  She wanted to outrun him, but she never could.

"Grr."  The wolf's growl got louder, and pulled at her senses.  She felt a growl rise within her, but the laughter pushed it away.  The wolf growled even louder, and started to cross the clearing at practically the same time as the monster.  He always came for her after taunting, and laughing.  He always laughed.  She felt another growl rise inside her.

The wolf didn't wait.  She watched as it ran towards her, and cringed inwardly.  She waited for its teeth to tear into her, but all she heard were death curdling screams as wolf's teeth tore into the monster who stalked her every night.

She watched, fear still permeated her mind, but she bared her teeth and growled as the wolf ripped and tore into the monster's flesh.  She lowered herself to all fours, and growled louder as the monster's screams turned into bloody gurgles.

The wolf stopped tearing into the corpse of the monster, and loped back to his spot.  Instead of him growling at her, he laughed, a short laugh like a hyena, then turned to the moon overhead, and howled.  It was such a mournful cry that all she could do was follow his lead.

For the first time in years, her dream did not end in tears.  It ended with a howl, with gratitude to a wolf she did not know, and to a moon she had never before seen.

(More to come later.)

Dance of Death

"Why do you do it?"  Her friend asked her.  "Why do you put so much of yourself into this dance?"  She had just finished her dance on the stage, and there was the typical reactions to her dance.  Some applauded, some were silent and unsure of what they had watched, but it was one man in particular whose reaction was the most precious.  He cried.

"For a reason too complex to articulate, yet that man's reaction was all I look for in an audience."  Her friend frowned.

"The tears?"

"The emotions.  He saw the pain, the agony, the torment, and the release.  He didn't cry then.  He cried when I danced the second part."

"I don't understand.  The second part?"

"In the second part, he saw everything again, but he didn't see release from it all.  He saw purpose."  She smiled softly at her friend.  "I know your pain, and I hope you might see it too."  Her friend looked away, but Connie hugged her anyway.

"Watch me tonight.  See me dance."  Coral frowned.

"But we're closed."

"I must practice.  Its my only release."

Coral's curiosity got the better of her, so she followed her friend to the empty theater, and the empty stage.  The set up was quick.  Only a few simple props in her bag, and some lights.  Connie danced for her friend.

Coral was quick to pick up on the nuances.  Daggers to slice the skin, but only draw blood and pain, not death.  She swayed to no music except for what was in her head, and heart.  It was expressive, and creative, showing the pain of choices made, and loves lost.  She showed how bare her heart was, and how torn she felt.

She danced of a death not her own, and the anger that followed.  The anger and the agony.  The choices she made propelled that uncertain future into a past reality.  Each step became weighted, and the dance got lower and lower to the stage floor.  Then Connie stood, a hidden noose hanging from her neck, the rope in her hand, and a rafter in view.

Coral was mesmerized now.  She had missed these nuances, and almost rushed onto the stage to stop her friend from throwing the rope over the rafter above her head.

The dance resumed.  The noose disappeared, and the daggers reappeared.  A fight to the death with an unseen assailant, and she was barely the victor.  She staggered from side to side, and held out her hands to an unseen lover off in the distance.  Slowly, she lowered her hands, and herself to the stage once again.

The noose reappeared, but instead of holding onto the rope, she untied it, and began to dance again.  She turned and looked at Coral, holding out her hands, calling to her with her will, and a purpose.  She couldn't resist the pull, and unconsciously, she danced over to her.

Connie smiled softly as she danced and made Coral a part of the story.  She became the lover who left.  Coral began to fill in parts of her own pain in the story.  She told her of how her lover got sick, how everyone abandoned her when she needed them the most, and how that sickness turned to death.

She danced and bled her pain on the stage, and her tears fell faster, and harder then at any other time of her life.  The daggers flew in Connie's hands, and she placed herself between Coral and the noose on the other side of the stage.  She tried to dance around, but each time, Connie circled her, pulled her back from the edge, and soon, she turned her completely away.

The noose appeared in Connie's hands, but instead of being around her neck, or given to Coral to place, she pulled it wide open, and placed it about their waist, and pulled it tight.  She held Coral to her with the rope, and in one last movement, their bodies entwined, their limbs coiled around the other, and Coral cried helplessly.

Connie held her for hours, crying into her shoulder, until she could cry no more.

"And now you know why I dance.  I do not dance for death.  I dance to find purpose.  I dance for life.  For love."  Coral lifted her eyes, and her tear stained cheeks.  For the first time in a while, Connie saw a smile there.

"You dance for me."

An unedited short story - The Dove and the Raven

 “What the hell are you doing? Are you mad?” A man cried out as he broke through the crowd in the center square. In the center of the crowd, and at the center of the hatred harbored in this village of only a hundred men and women, was the priest.

“Mad?” He shouted with contempt. “She's got the wings of an angel!” The man was incredulous.

“If she's got the wings of an angel, why are you trying to kill her?” Tied to a stump, her wings stretched out behind her, was a beautiful young woman with pale strawberry blonde hair, and pale lightly freckled skin. Her face was a mixture of horror, and agony. Her back was to the wide stump, her hands pulled behind her and tied, but her wings were tied together, and stretched out over the stump. The sheriff had an ax.

“Fallen angels were kicked out of heaven! Which means she is out of God's favor! He would want us to punish this demon for her treachery!” The crowd wanted blood, and he would make sure they got it.

“Vengeance is mine!” The man quoted from scripture easily, as he knew that it was only the scriptures that might save this young woman. Her beauty pained him.

“You dare?” The priest exclaimed.

“You would destroy such a beautiful creation, made by the Almighty, just because she is different? He tells us that He will take vengeance! Not us!” Unfortunately, he was too late in using scriptures. They were beyond caring what God wanted. They didn't want to be reminded of their own sins by her angelic beauty. That beauty was worse then her wings as it enraged more plain looking women, and brought more lustful emotions from the men. The priest considered her to be from the devil as she stirred such emotions even in him, a pious man of the cloth.

“He has fallen under her spell! Bind him!” The crowd surged forward, and he knew it was far too late to save these miserable wretches from themselves. He looked at the young woman, who looked up at him in absolute horror.

“I'm so sorry.” He said. She watched as they tied him, ripped out his eyes so he couldn't see her, and cut out his tongue so he could no longer accuse them. They left his ears intact. The priest wanted him to hear what happened next.

“Momma? Did that really happen?” She nodded. “But why are your skin and feathers black, while mine and my sisters are white?” She looked up at her husband of many years, and though he could not see the effect of that day, he felt it every night since.

“They did that to us, yes. Don't worry. Your father and I have had many happy years since then.” She put the small child on her lap, and gently tucked her wings behind her. “You have to learn to hold them close to your back, baby. Let no one see them.” The girl smiled up at her mother, and slipped from her lap. She half ran, half flew over to her father, and jumped up into his lap.

“Ha ha!” He said, though his laugh sounded hollow. “Bee gooog. Lissen ta momma Dove.” He had learned to manipulate the sounds to talk, at least a little. She kissed his chin and snuggled in close, his arms closing about his little girl. Her mother smiled.

“Momma? Why?” She sighed sadly.

“Your father heard the pain of my wings being taken, but that is not what turned my feathers black. It was what they did to him! They watched! They delighted in my pain, in his pain! They were filled with hatred, and that hatred stained me.” The girl walked over to her mother, and gently caressed her fingers.

“Is that why you have....”

“Talons? Yes, baby. That's also why you do not. You are not stained, and neither are your sisters. Their pure white wings are not stained with hatred, but made with love. Our love.” The girl smiled up at her, and darted back to her father.

“You're just like your sisters. We trained them well, and they still fly freely.” She closed her eyes as a memory of how the wind felt when it ruffled her feathers long ago. “Bedtime, little one. Your father and I want some alone time.” She giggled.

“Alone time means a new sister!” Her mother hushed her and took her hand. She tucked her in her favorite soft blanket, and returned to her husband's side. He patted her midsection lovingly, then lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

“Sooo my tine. Old.” She nodded sadly, and was almost glad he could not see her stained skin, and blackened feathers. “Dove.” She shook her head.

“Please. Don't say it. Just love me until...” He sighed sadly, and she guided him to their bed, a soft blanket lined nest he had learned to enjoy sleeping in, as long as she was curled up beside him. They raised many children in this nest, and it was soon time for him to leave her alone.

“Don't leave them until they are grown.” She nodded. He knew she would leave this world not long after he did. He pulled her close and ignored the stumps of her severed wings sticking into his chest. He would always love her, no matter how scarred, as long as he lived.

Even in the happiest moments of her life, the darkness that would soon claim him always loomed ahead of her. Though she had several daughters that still roamed the skies, it would not feel right to keep living without her reason to live.

She was no longer the dove, innocent from her youth, and happily flying on the currents, out of reach of the hate filled humans below.

Her blackened feathers, severed wings, and claws were the last things many villagers saw that day as she tore the life from their bodies. All who were guilty of the crimes against them. And their epithet of “Raven” still haunted her ears.

She lifted her eyes, and listened to the wind outside. A familiar sound filled her ears.

“Do you hear them, my love?” She asked softly. She felt his arm tighten over her belly. “Our daughters are coming home.” The steady beating of the air with large agile wings filled the attic of their mountain home. His arm tightened one more time, then fell still. Her tears started to fall.

“They are coming to take us to the skies, my love. To take us home.”

(This story is unedited, and loosely inspired by Nightwish's video Amaranth)