The exercise:
Today's prompt is: city wolves.
Inspiration explanation below. I'm curious to see what you guys do with it.
Mine:
I had several strange dreams last night, but there was one in particular that was extremely vivid. In it I was walking down the middle of a snow covered street, parked cars peeking out from snow banks on either side of me, in a rural neighborhood with no one else about. The pine trees huddled in front yards and along the curb were heavy with snow and the sky above was a cloudless blue. I don't remember feeling cold, so I must have been dressed properly for the conditions; now that I think of it, there was definitely the sound of my boots crunching through the hard packed snow.
About a block and a half ahead of me were two very large wolves, heading in the same direction I was. Due to what I can only describe as 'dream logic', I was apparently tracking them. Unarmed, of course. And I wasn't the least bit scared either, just... fascinated, I think. I gave no thought as to what wolves might be doing in the city, I just wanted to see where they were going.
Unfortunately I'm not much of a tracker, even in my dreams. At some point the wolves turned around, spotted me, and began walking slowly towards me. At this point I finally realized it might be an idea to stop following them, so I turned down a side street. The next thing I remember was walking, slowly of course, backwards (sigh, dreams) away from them as they calmly followed me down this street.
As they drew closer fear set in at last. I remember my chest tightening and panic rushing through me in waves. Did either of those things cause me to run, or to bang on doors in the hopes that someone was home to let me in?
Ohhh no. No, of course not. I just kept backing slowly away as they got closer... and closer... and closer...
And then I woke up.
3 comments:
She wove through the crowds, trying to find something, anything, to distract her. She wanted to leave that past behind, but there was always something close behind to remind her of it.
And when the coyotes, they sing in the park, it's when the city lights start fallin' for the sea...
The memory just kept pursuing her, following at a safe enough distance but ever ready to strike at any moment. It forbade her from moving on, from going forward.
And when the coyotes escape to New York, then the city life has crumbled to the sea...
- - - - -
This made a bit more sense in my head, something lost in translation I suppose. Ah well, your "city wolves" reminded me of the Jason Mraz song "Coyotes" and, for some reason, of Wuthering Heights. Make of that combination what you will. At least I wrote something.
Intriguing dream, and certainly beats my last odd dream over the weekend (where I met myself from an alternate timeline, complete with moustache and strong accent... that was wierd). I wonder what your wolves represent?
City Wolves
I looked about, wondering where Vince had got to this time. Off to my left was the old pharmacy, the metal door hanging from the top hinge and the rusted shutters battered and torn. It had been derelict for nearly five years; Vince wouldn't go in there. Would he?
Over to my right, Pallisade Street branched off, leading to the parks and the feral gangs. Again, not somewhere either of us would choose to go, at least not alone.
Dead ahead, the city wolves were stood watching me, the pack shifting slowly and subtly as they spread themselves out, each of them getting a unique line of sight -- and thus line of attack -- on me. I swallowed hard. Dr. Monsanto's little pets had proved to be survivors, and when his lab had burned down, they'd escaped.
They were, on their own terms, cleaning up the city, but it looked like I'd just been picked as next to be tidied away.
"Oi, pillock! Get down here!"
Vince's head popped up out of a manhole and the cover grated across the torn-up tarmac as he pulled it towards him.
"Vince?"
"Move it, dipstick! The wolves will have your DNA if you don't shift!"
My legs jerked into action and I stuttered over to the manhole while my brain demanded to know why it wasn't being consulted on our actions. Vince squeezed over to one side and I slipped past. As I landed in the dirty, greasy calf-height water I heard him pull the cover into place.
"City wolves don't have opposable thumbs," I said numbly. "They can't get us down here."
"No mate," said Vince climbing nimbly down the ladder. "The sewer crocs might though."
g2 - really, really liked this:
"The memory just kept pursuing her, following at a safe enough distance but ever ready to strike at any moment. It forbade her from moving on, from going forward."
Greg - um, I think your dream tops mine. As for the wolves? Hmm. Following something I shouldn't be following, only to have it turn on me. Hmm. I'll have to ponder that one.
Your take was excellent, by the by. Great last line too :)
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