Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Dreams of the Few

Michael held his breath, and waited. By the time he identified the sound, it was too late to run. The wolves emerged from the shadows, their fur illuminated with an iridescent glow that seemed to come from within. The pack leader was a massive beast, with eyes the color of charred steel. The animal stepped forward, and his pack lingered in the shadows. Michael stood his ground, and met the animal’s gaze with resolve. The wolf moved forward with stealthy purpose, never taking his eyes off his prey. His lips drew back to reveal razor sharp teeth, and he issued a low, guttural growl that raised the hackles on Michael's arms. The wolf turned his head slowly to the left, and then to the right.
“He’s communicating with the pack,” Michael thought.
The covey of brothers assembled around the pack leader, and looked to him for a signal. The pack leader dipped toward the earth, and rested on his front legs, ready to lunge. He glowered at Michael, and ran his tongue over his exposed teeth. It was probably his imagination, but it seemed to Michael that the wolf’s eyes had turned from gray to scarlet. He watched as the color of the wolf’s eyes shifted and spiraled, morphing with a glassy madness that threatened to pull Michael into the abyss. The animal lifted his chin, and glared at him, its teeth bared in a hideous smile.
The broad muscles in the wolf’s shoulders bunched and tightened, and he lifted off the ground, and lunged with terrifying precision. Michael stared into the open maw of the beast, and wilted from its burning breath. He spun away, narrowly avoiding the first snap of the wolf’s jaw, but the wolf circled to the left, and cut off his escape, grabbing at his outstretched arm, and locking its jaw around the bone. Michael fell hard. The pack closed around him, and the world stalled. The wolves moved in slow motion, descending on him with bared teeth. Michael waited for the pain, but there was none. The pack leader climbed onto his body, ripping at the flesh on his hip, with violent abandon. Still, Michael felt nothing. He was tumbling - winding into a kaleidoscopic tunnel – where the earth was no longer solid. He rolled onto his back, and fought for his life. He could feel it coming. His muscles failed, his arms fell to his sides, and his breathing slowed. Michael opened his eyes, and fixed the pack leader with a determined glare. The wolf hesitated, then pushed his snout closer to Michael’s face, and cocked his head, as if he was about to ask an important question. The animal’s fur glowed with an alien brilliance that defied description. The massive muscles in his shoulder girdle rolled and tightened under the skin. The wolf curled his upper lip, and bared his large fangs. Between the seconds, Michael had enough time to wonder at the animal’s pristine dental hygiene. The wolf’s eyes turned blood red as he dove to the right, and fixed his iron jaw on Michael’s neck. Michael rolled into the dream, and knew no more.

Susan Obijiski lives in beautiful Sedona, Arizona with her husband. She is the author of Dreams of the Many, and Dreams of the Few and a contributing author to 'Sedona Awakenings'.

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BookItBK Walker said...

Thank you so much for hosting Susan :)


It was my pleasure to add this book to my TBR list. :-)


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