This Wolf Feels Nothing But Hopelessness


WOW – I really love this!!
If you’ve been following the adventures of Lyla, THESE words hit home to a time in Lyla’s life when she was so lost . . . had to incorporate it somehow. More to come on that – it’s developing
Beautifully written Catherine!! Brilliant!! Bravo!! 🙂 ☮☮

Catherine Zhang

wolf

The wolf feels the arrows. It feels the pointed ends sticking into the flesh between her shoulder blades. Damn, how did the hunter find her only soft spot? The tenderest part? The hunter was skilled; the wolf feels the arrowheads stab her sharply with every movement…every lifting of the paw, every crane of the neck. Every movement, a reminder of coming death.

She looks down at the skull in front of her, a face that had once been so soft and loving and now hard and empty, reduced by death to near nothingness. The arrows seem to dig deeper underneath her skin, blood matting fur.

There is only one word for this feeling: hopelessness.

Utter, despairing, pervading hopelessness.

Creds to Amelia for showing me this:

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Haiku ~ 7/11/14


This is so good, I had to share!! Enjoy the vision it evokes!

Lorrie Bowden

633

Bear in mind my haste

to find the answers of life

staring at the stars

Blessitude

Lorrie

7/11/14

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It’s A Shame We Aint Lovers – Part 2


If you want to start at the beginning –  Part 1 

Though she could feel his eyes gazing upon her, his passion, his heat, his desire, his love and longing for her through his finger’s touch, she was all of a sudden much soberer than she was five minutes prior. And even more nervous and unsure than she thought she might be. He could sense this as he felt her body trembling, though he could tell she was trying to hide it. He knew she was scared, and he wanted nothing more than to put her at ease, regardless of what might or might not take place tonight.

If the truth were to be known, and she wasn’t so nervous herself and was paying attention, she would’ve noticed he was trembling a bit, too. Though his desire for her was more than he could express, he was also afraid. What if she got cold feet? What if she wasn’t as in to him as he was her? What if the decades of fantasizing about this moment were way beyond the moment itself? What if his lovemaking sucked? What if, oh god, he was so nervous, he couldn’t get it up?

“Why don’t I get us something to drink? You thirsty,” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she murmured, pulling her shirt to, glad for the time out. She cared deeply for him. She always had, and though he had always had a little piece of her heart, in her mind, she had separated herself from him a long time ago – when she chose another man over him, as he had seemed to lose interest in her, and this other man, her soul mate came into her life. She had spent almost four decades with her soul mate before he left her for heaven. She had explained to him in several conversations that she had still not dated anyone, and actually found the whole prospect incredibly intimidating, to say the least.

Standing in the kitchen, he starts pulling out his options from the liquor cabinet, when she said, “Actually, you got something other than booze – had enough of that.”

He opens the fridge, extends his arm in a wave toward the inside, saying, “Be my guest,” smiling so hard, his jaw is starting to hurt. She brushes up against him to see inside the fridge. He still cannot believe she is here.  He noticed she had buttoned a few of her buttons, covering her bodaciousness while her bellybutton peaked out at him – shit even that was sexy and turning him on. Hell if the truth were to be known, the whole idea of her turned him on – every single inch and part of her.

She had been invading his thoughts for decades. Sometimes on a regular basis, some years not as much, but always somewhere in his mind, his heart – wondering where she was, was she happy, was she still with him, did she have a family, what does she look like now – though he remembered her 16-17 year-old self well. She was etched in his memory – the first time he met her, the last time he had seen her, and many other memories as well.

She was considerably shorter than he, and he liked that. Besides having a body that makes a man want fall on his knees, he thought her smile was beautiful and in his opinion could light up a room, and her laugh was deep, husky, and infectious. She was incredibly smart, yet incredibly funny and sarcastic. He could look at her face and her soothing yet haunting green eyes for hours on end, never growing tired.

“Ooohh, how about some lemonade, that sounds good. What do you think?”

“That’ll work,” he smiled and reached for one of her hands. Warren Haynes started singing, I’ll Be the One. They both knew, she couldn’t have picked a more perfect soundtrack for this evening. Not sure exactly how she did that in such a short amount of time. The music kept playing, almost a soundtrack to their relationship.

To be continued . . .

© ~ Sadie ~ and Windchimes and Dreamcatchers, 2013-2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to ~ Sadie ~ and Windchimes and Dreamcatchers with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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