Short Story #4: Mr. Wolf
The fourth of my short story vignettes. These are single-shot, one-take, no-rewrite stories.
“Mister Wolf?”
My eyes snap open, my head rears up, and my ears — no, my entire body strains for that voice. Something warm and bright flickers through me for a brief instant. My breath quickens, sending spiraling mist dancing through the air. I feel my lips pull back, and I don’t know why. But there is only rain and distant thunder. There is only ever rain and thunder. I never even see the lightning. My taut muscles relax, and I know that my body is sagging. My lips fall forward into place once more, hiding my teeth. My eyelids grow heavy again, and I feel tired. Again. It’s going to be another long night — alone with the rain and thunder. Again. I curl up on the hard ground, with my back to the wall, facing outside. Again. I don’t remember what I’m waiting for anymore. I’m vaguely aware of my breath slowing, becoming shallower. One more deep breath, before I fade away. Again…
“Mister Wolf, where did you go?”
The voice sends me spinning, pulling my attention away from the rabbit rushing to the underbrush. I’m right here! I’m yelling, I’m running, sprinting, rushing…where? The blood is pounding in my ears, and I feel my body tense, wanting to jump, wanting to move. The rain splashes around me, bouncing off of grey leaves beneath a grey sky. I’m soaked through, dripping and cold from the downpour. The feeling of the rain striking my back is dulled by my coat, leaving only a dull tattoo of water splashing across my shoulders.
Where are you? I rush through a cluster of small bushes, the prickly leaves sticking in my coat — I’ll have to tear them out later. One bush lashes out at me, the branch striking me in the eye as I try to push through to her. It’s sharp. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Something is wrong. Things seem closer than they used to, and things are a little blurry. It hurts.
I don’t see her here. I don’t see her anywhere. Where is she?
Who is she? Why am I…
The thunder rumbles overhead, shaking my bones. I should go back. The rain keeps falling, endlessly. Just me and the rain. Again. It hurts.
The puddle doesn’t look like me. My coat is much nicer than the puddle’s, it’s softer and not nearly as tangled. My body is much stronger than the puddle’s. I know it is, I am big and strong. The rain just makes me look smaller. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see things, but I know my eyes are prettier than the puddle’s. I’ve always been told that I have pretty eyes, and his were grey and dull. I’m much better than the puddle. The raven agrees with me; he and his mate have been keeping me company lately. I share dinner with them sometimes. I’m not as alone as the puddle.
It hurts.
It’s still raining. It’s always been raining. Sometimes the thunder goes away. Those are strange times — without the thunder, it feels too quiet. Even though it scares me sometimes, I miss the thunder. Sometimes I dream, and when I dream I hear the thunder talking to me, telling me how good I am. How much it loves me. I wonder what that means. I used to know, but it’s been so long. I must have forgotten.
Again.
The soil is soft beneath my feet. My nails are so long now. When did that happen? They didn’t used to be so long and curved. They’re pulling up the dirt — the rain won’t like that. She never liked it when I pulled up dirt by accident. The rain works really hard to make good dirt, I think. The trees like good dirt, and I like the trees. They’re so tall, I bet they can see the lightning. But even though I made her mad sometimes, the rain never leaves me. I like the rain, even though it makes me cold sometimes. At least I know I’m cleaner than the puddle. I’m much better than the puddle. My friends say so.
It hurts.
“Mister Wolf, please come home. I miss you.”
I miss you too. But I don’t know who you are. I only remember rain and thunder, and this cold, empty feeling. My friends flew away for the winter. I miss them. I hope I don’t forget them. I know I’m forgetful. The rain is getting colder now, and if I wake up early in the morning, I can sometimes see the grass covered in brightness. There’s been more thunder lately too — but I still haven’t seen any lightning. I asked my friends what it was, and they said it was very bright, and very fast. I want to see the lightning someday. They said the trees are too tall for me to see it, and that I should go somewhere high.
“Will you protect me from the lightning Mister Wolf?”
How can I protect you if I don’t know what lightning looks like? I need to see the lightning, so I can protect her. Whoever she is. I need to go up. I can’t sleep tonight anyway. Again. I can make it by myself. It hurts.
I want to go home.
Up is hard. The dirt isn’t soft anymore, it’s really hard. It scratches when I walk on it, and it hurts my nails. My feet are sore, and my legs are shaky. It’s hard to go up, but I’m still stronger than the puddle, so I can do it. The thunder is closer now. I can feel it in my chest when I breathe. It feels scary, but good. It’s like the thunder is holding me up while I walk. I remember the thunder holding me up while I learned to swim, when I was small. The water was scary, and I couldn’t feel the bottom, but the thunder kept me safe. I don’t have a lot of those memories. Why are my lips pulling back again? I don’t understand.
I can see the top! There is no more up! My arms and legs feel hot, so hot, and so weak. I’m panting so hard that the air is misting in front of my nose. It’s very cold now. Soon the rain will get quiet and soft, but very cold. I remember the first time I saw the rain get soft. I stuck my face in a pile of it, and it was so cold! I tried to eat some of it, but it tasted like cold rain. It was very bright. Maybe lightning is bright like soft rain?
“Silly Mister Wolf! That’s snow!”
Snow. That’s what it was called. She always knew everything. I followed her everywhere, with her big fluffy coat and her strange squeaky feet. Her head was also hard and yellow sometimes, but I don’t know why. She always knew best. They squeaked like mice sometimes, when she walked. She liked jumping in puddles — she must not have known there were people in there. Where did she go? I need to protect her from the lightning, how can I do that if I don’t know where she is?
I need to see lightning first, then I can find her to protect her.
It hurts.
I’m at the top of the big rock. It was very hard to get up here. I have to lie down for a while, to catch my breath. It’s a little hard to breathe, the air is cold and weak. I can see a lot of things from here! I can see the tops of trees, they’re pointy like the puddle’s teeth. A little darker though. The grey sky is moving very fast from up here, and the thunder is very close. I can almost feel his hand on my head when he rumbles. It feels… nice. The rain is cold, but not bad. Not soft yet. It’s splashing on my nose; it’s going to make me sneeze. I sneezed. I can’t help but yawn widely. It’s just me, thunder, and the rain. Again.
What’s that? There are no trees there. And sometimes something bright flashes through. Is that it? Is that lightning? It must be! It’s on the ground, not in the sky! Who told me that it was in the sky? They must have been mistaken. People make mistakes sometimes. At least the view from up here is pretty, and the thunder feels close here. It was worth the climb. But now I need to climb back down, so I can see the lightning. Then I can find her. Then I can protect her from the lightning.
I found the lightning! It comes by on big, scary things, but it’s bright and flashy! Whoever told me about the lightning wasn’t all wrong. They’re still good people, I wonder who they were. The no-trees place is hard, and it smells weird. The rain doesn’t seem to like it, the wetness just slides away. The thunder seems distant now, but he’s still with me. Now I just need to find her. This place feels familiar though. Have I been here before? I remember something loud and scary, but it’s blurry.
I’ve been walking on the grass alongside the no-trees place. The lightning scares me sometimes, but the thunder is always with me. The rain is really cold today, I think it’s going to get soft soon. That will be fun. Right? I’m just walking. I don’t remember where my home is, but that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find her soon. She’s not far now, I just need to follow the lightning. The lightning scares her, and I’m sure if I follow it I’ll find her.
What is that? It’s like a tree, but it’s short and doesn’t have any leaves. Why does it only have two branches? Why are its roots made of the hard soil? Wait! There’s a yellow hard thing in front of the tree. I found her! She’s here!
In front of the tree is a small square, but she’s in it! There are some words there, but they’re really blurry to me. She never taught me to read anyway. Some flowers have come out of the ground and walked over here too, they’re so bright. She always liked flowers. She must be underneath this small tree, sleeping. I’ll sleep here too. I’ll protect her. I’ll protect her from the lightning, forever. It’s okay now. I’ll never leave you again.
“Goodbye, Mister Wolf.”
