The Wolf: Mother Wolf
Wearing Thin
A tiny cottage sits in disrepair at the edge of a dense forest. The busted weather vane entangled with creeping vines sits alone outside, caught in a seemingly endless loop of haphazard screeching. Its rhythmic whining seemingly at war with a torn mesh door barely hanging onto its frame. A frigid breeze keeps the two in an endless cycle.
Screeeeeeech…. KaTap!
Screeeeeeech… KaTap!
The two objects battle to see which would be the first to drive the woman inside mad.
Inside the disheveled hovel sits a single woman with her back to a rickety bed. Nude save for a moth eaten blanket strung over her shoulders. Her thin emaciated form is barely any thicker than the tattered cloth covering her head like a death shroud. Her bare legs are agape just enough to keep her shriveled body precariously balanced. Her back arches forward with barely enough strength left to keep her head from rolling off her shoulders. Her feet are covered in cuts and bruises, the bones inside push out awkwardly against her tightly wrapped skin.
Screeeeeeeeech… KaTAP!
Across the room sits her wedding gift. A massive cloak sewn together from the hides of 7 golden wolves. It’s girth far more than that of its owner’s at this point. It’s hallow eyes star back at her temptingly. Her body shifts slightly as a frosted stuttering breath visibly escapes from beneath a straggly mane of hair. Her hand squeezes down the rusty kitchen knife.
She takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry…”
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech… KATAP!!!
Red liquid spills onto the floor like paint from a hack artist's brush. She whimpers in pain and crawls toward the cloak, its hollow eyes growing in size bit by bit. Her eyes start to glow with a golden hue, half way there.
A pained look of sadistic glee erupts from the woman’s face as her fingertips brush against the cloaks golden mane, a river of red stretched out behind her.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH… KATTAPP!!!
Muffled cries of pain can be heard from outside, within minutes they are overshadowed by the sickening sound of crunching bones and twisting sinew. Later a heavy panting several octaves below the woman’s can be heard. Pained cries have been replaced by a husky panting sound, filled with a twisted mixture of pleasure and pain.
A commotion erupts as a wardrobe is knocked over spilling its contents all over. Moments later the howl of a massive beast shatters the scenic atmosphere; its voice filled with an unending hunger and unquenchable rage against all the world.
Schreeeeeeech….
Screeeeeeech…. KaTap!
Screeeeeeech… KaTap!
The two objects battle to see which would be the first to drive the woman inside mad.
Inside the disheveled hovel sits a single woman with her back to a rickety bed. Nude save for a moth eaten blanket strung over her shoulders. Her thin emaciated form is barely any thicker than the tattered cloth covering her head like a death shroud. Her bare legs are agape just enough to keep her shriveled body precariously balanced. Her back arches forward with barely enough strength left to keep her head from rolling off her shoulders. Her feet are covered in cuts and bruises, the bones inside push out awkwardly against her tightly wrapped skin.
Screeeeeeeeech… KaTAP!
Across the room sits her wedding gift. A massive cloak sewn together from the hides of 7 golden wolves. It’s girth far more than that of its owner’s at this point. It’s hallow eyes star back at her temptingly. Her body shifts slightly as a frosted stuttering breath visibly escapes from beneath a straggly mane of hair. Her hand squeezes down the rusty kitchen knife.
She takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry…”
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech… KATAP!!!
Red liquid spills onto the floor like paint from a hack artist's brush. She whimpers in pain and crawls toward the cloak, its hollow eyes growing in size bit by bit. Her eyes start to glow with a golden hue, half way there.
A pained look of sadistic glee erupts from the woman’s face as her fingertips brush against the cloaks golden mane, a river of red stretched out behind her.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH… KATTAPP!!!
Muffled cries of pain can be heard from outside, within minutes they are overshadowed by the sickening sound of crunching bones and twisting sinew. Later a heavy panting several octaves below the woman’s can be heard. Pained cries have been replaced by a husky panting sound, filled with a twisted mixture of pleasure and pain.
A commotion erupts as a wardrobe is knocked over spilling its contents all over. Moments later the howl of a massive beast shatters the scenic atmosphere; its voice filled with an unending hunger and unquenchable rage against all the world.
Schreeeeeeech….
|
|
|
