I staggered from the house party into the backyard more drunk or stoned than I cared to admit needing fresh air.
A growl broke the rhythmic pounding of music. I stared into the red eyes of the massive dog, chained in place. I’d had enough dealings with animals, being a vet to know this was a proud male.
Shuddering more from the welcome cool of the night air then fright I stepped closer wanting to see this three-quarter wolf dog that my friend Jim had chained up for the last three years. Lips pulled back in a sneer revealing bone white fangs that knew the taste of red meat and blood, probably wanting mine.
It lunged, attacking the heavy chains holding it. I took a few steps closer squatting on the cool wet grass. “You look mighty upset. I’d be too if I was tied up.”
It stood there growling.
I’d been close to animals my whole life, preferring them to the company of humans, which is why I loved being a vet. I guess the physical and mental abuse suffered in my childhood had a lot to do with it. Humans? Why would I say that word?
“I bring you no harm, hairy one.” I study its rather unusual long pointed ears. Its tail begins to wag. A sign that it trusts me. Remarkable, I know dogs are very psychic and it obviously senses I mean no harm.
“Hey Lisa, come on back inside, the joints just rocking,” hollers my current boyfriend, Dave. For a male he’s okay and for now he’ll do. My life is complete with my studies and my vet work, for now, but there is someone out there, I know.
“Give me a minute to cool down.”
The door clanged shut. “Many Celtic people and First Nations believe they carry wolf spirits with them. Intriguing you are the first one I’ve met.”
It glares at me, trying to intimidate me. Teeth glinting in the moonlight, so menacing.
“I’ve been told the eyes are the doorways of the soul. I’ve read that wolves have a special sense. Some native legends speak of the wolf as a haunted creature, others speak of it as all-knowing and wise. Howling to the moon looking for its soulmate.” Maybe I needed to howl to the moon to find mine.
I look up and catch something crossing its eyes. A blink and it’s gone. What had I seen?
“You are neither of those, aren’t you?” it just sat there, not letting on, like it knew what I was saying.
I returned to Jim’s; on the pretense I lost an earring out in the backyard. I stared at it sitting on his haunches growling, a natural state of being for him.
“One thing I know, you’re not a werewolf. Jim has you chained up for years at night to keep out all of the crazies around the neighborhood.”
It glared at me intensely.
“Only is there something else inside?”
It continued to glare intensely.
I knew this was a ruse. “So, what are you?”
Jim came out. “Wow, this is incredible. You’re the only one that has that effect on him. Other than me bringing him food, he is never silent. I take him for walks but he freaks out on everyone around him. He does long walks in the woods, at least there he seems at some resemblance of peace. He likes you.”
“I think so too.” I just had to know why.
“I’ll leave you two to bond some more.”
It glared at me, not with the murderous red eyes of a predator, but something else. I’ve stared into the eyes of enough animals to know the difference between mere existence and intelligence. This being held something different in its gateway to the soul. Something it kept locked inside.
It growled louder.
I wanted to run my hand over its long dark hair.
Its growl lowered an imperceptible amount.
I pulled an earring from my pocket as Jim came out. “Thanks, Jim, I found the earring.”
I left knowing something important. It could read my thoughts. Whatever was inside would not reveal itself to me. Was it scared of humans? I knew Jim had found it weak at the side of the road and brought it home.
Or did it hide some terrible secret inside?
That night I rolled over shutting off the light dreaming to the thud of four paws, a continuous rhythm on damp earth. Invigorating. My tongue lolls out to one side. Saliva flings free, mixing with the evening dew. Fingers of wind comb my fur, stroking the muscles underneath.
On my run, the constant thud of my paws interrupts the still of the night. The moon shines back with the eerie hard white of splintered bone. A macabre voice screeches out in the darkness.
A warmth surges through my loins, I gallop on. On a high boulder he stands, serenading the moon.
Neck back, tips of its pointed ears highlighted. Mist rises like hunger from his throat as it howls voraciously again, for me.
I return the growl, responding to my own hunger within. He turns, the redness of his needs glare at me.
I scream, fangs sink around my throat and claws tear at my bedsheets. My cry, only a gurgle escapes as he claims me.
In the morning, I struggle to rise. Every muscle cries out in pain. I spit out whatever remains in my heaving guts into the sink. My eyes are hollow. On my neck are little white scars, jagged pinholes in a row. Whatever this creature is, it has feasted on my soul.
The next night again.
Jim has gone for the evening, carrying chain cutters and a twenty-two I squat down. My clothes are baggy, I’ve lost weight. I will not endure this hell for another night.
Overhead, fittingly, a full moon leers down like a bleached skull.
Wind picks up trashing about tree branches, there is more than one storm raging tonight.
It sits there with that low growl and a satiated smile.
“Have it your way. I know this much, I know you are no wolf. And if you refuse to speak and wish to continue this charade that’s fine.” I reached for the gun and put it on my knees. “I will not allow you to feast on my soul, another night. So, reveal yourself, or die, you son-of-a-bitch.”
I had sworn a long time ago that no man would ever violate my body, not without my consent. No human man nor damn creature either.
A light rain began to fall sizzling like in outrage at striking something not Gaia born.
Vapors rose beginning to swirl, condensing. Soon I was staring at a mass of solid throbbing ethereal cloud of gas beating with a life of its own as the wolf covering fell aside, still breathing but drained of its soul. I stared at the essence of this alien being as it solidified. Powerful, manly, shimmering for a second on two thick solid muscular legs.
In a blink he swept me into his arms. Perhaps last night I could have fought it off, but not tonight.
Slammed me to the earth, I gasped for breath as it opened its eyes to mine and everything fell away to blackness.
I was on a spaceship. Intense heat buffeted me. We were crash landing, burning up. All of us aboard were about to die as the ship was to become a meteor. I gagged, air thick with acrid burning plastics and other fibers. My flesh begins to boil in the heat.
Through view screens the earth is racing up to hit us like bugs against a windshield, scant milliseconds are all that remain.
One screen focuses on a female wolf in her den giving birth. The mother howls in pain as he hits a button, vanishing into a meteoric fireball.
Six puppies lay beside her, one with ears longer and pointier than the others.
The mist is gone and Jim’s wolf-being sits there again, looking exhausted.
Eyes that bespoke of the stars it once belonged to and wanted to reach for again, implored me. I stood up and walked up to that beast. With one hand I reached out and stroked its long silky mane. I knew what must be done.
With the other hand I pulled back the trigger and fired over and over.
The chain fell to the ground with nothing to hold it up right. He rose to the stars howling into the night, gazing at me.
“Go find your others.” A tear trembling on my cheek.
On nights of the full moon, I often find myself sitting outside on a hill staring upward. In the distance I hear a far-off cry from the heavens of him. I still feel the thud of my paws, the wind in my fur and star swept blaze in his eyes.
Bio:
Frank Talaber lives in Chilliwack, BC. He currently has twelve novels released, most set in BC, including Victoria, Haida Gwaii, Vancouver, and Prince George. He’s written in many genres: Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction, Spiritual, comedy, Erotica, and Romance. As well as the novels, he can boast over eighty published short stories, articles, over eighty blogs and ten live interviews.
Frank is also published by The Wild Rose Press, one of the largest traditional Publishing houses in the world, with “his other half” Felicity Talisman.
People who have read Frank’s books describe him as a natural storyteller who writes like his soul is on fire and his pencil is his voice crying out. They go further to say that they find his books grabbingly intense and hilarious at times, screaming everyday life from such a realistic viewpoint you’re drawn into his world, unable to stop; almost cursing that they can’t set the book down, page after page. Frank takes great pride in the realism of his work, painstakingly visiting most of the locations, (obviously, only the “real-life” ones!) and he is so thorough that many readers have remarked that they can hear, taste, visualize, smell and feel the essence of the place. “It really is like being there” one remarked. There isn’t a greater compliment to be made.