The wolf
and The Owl
Tucked away among quite hills and shadowed creeks, there is a path that leads
into a dead
forest. Twisted and overgrow the path is covered with leaves and fallen limbs
but it is still
there. If one were to follow this path they might find many aincent memories.
Some
memories of spring and shimmering sunshine. Some of fall and its muriads of
color, and
cold breezes. And still more of times best left forgotten.
There is one particular time, between autum and winter, when no snow had fallen
but the air carried its inuendos of precipitation. When a young girl had left
her home to
wander through the forest. Mind you this was a time when the woods echoed with
life
from above and below, long before its demise. A small owl had captured her
attention at
dusk. It was a beautifluly ornamented owl like none other she had seen or even
heard of.
Its call was was slow and lulling. She was entranzed by its beauty it and led
her to the
mouth of the forest, mesmurized she followed it between the trees and through
the
tanggled branches. Each time she thought she had lost it its call would send
tingles down
her back and invite her to follow. As she moved through the leafless trees
twilight snuck
up and struck the sky with briliant reds and purples. The sun crept down beneath
the hills
long after a moon, full and yellow as only deep autumn can produce, had begun
its ascent.
The owls calls were growing faint when she noticed she was on a kind of trail.
More
reminisent of a deer run than a mans beaten path. This was when she noticed how
dark it
had gotten. Looking around she realized she had wandered entirely too far as
well. Again
the owl called "hoooo". Now she felt contempt for its cry. Its fault was leading
her away
from home so close to night. It reminded her that she should have known better
than to
wander from home. Her mothers voice entered her thoughts "dont wander too far
dear,
your liable to become lost and then what will you do?". She was upset and began
down
the trail, hoping it would lead to a familiar place.
Several miniutes had passed and she was feeling quite afraid now. The wind had
picked up and the stars were out. Her mother would be worried. A lone wolfs howl
echoed through the wood, a surpressed sound like a low siren slowley descending
in
pitch. She stood petrified. tears welled up into her eyes and as wind gusted she
closed
them tight. and when she did everything stopped. No more wind, no more howl, no
more
cold. A rasping old womans voice, deep with hungarian accent, like an aincent
gypsy with
wet lung came to her from behind andwhispered into her ear. "are you afraid of the wolf my
dear?!?" The
girl was stuck with terror, The old woman put her long wrinkled fingers onto the girls
shoulder.
her eyes and mouth opened wide in preparation to scream yet she was silenced
with
horror. She turned slightly around to look at the womans hand, It was chalk white and
thich
grey hairs jutted from her wrist. Her nails were long and yellow tipped with
black from
dirt. The witch began to embrace her and kackled. The girl forced herself from
the hags
arms and the witch fell to the ground. The girl began to run but only went a few
paces
before she was stopped by the wolf. it stood in front of her, as tall as her. It
lowered its
head and growled, its eyes pierced through her and she turned to face the witch.
The
woman still on the ground uttered forign words to the girl, with a look of pure
hatred and
loathing. She got to her feet and the owl flew down and landed on her shoulder.
Its eyes
blazed with a red light. The woman stepped clooser to the girl and raised her
arm above
and over the girl who began to weep. Suddenly the wolf leaped over the girls
head and
pounced on the witch. It mauled her and all the girl could do was watch, until
she heard a
distant voice call her name, it was her mother. She ran towards her mothers voice,
and before
long she was safe in her home. No one ever saw the woman again But to this day
the
wolves howls can be head it you listen long enouph. To the end of her days when
the girl
heard the stoic call of the wolf it comforted her, and when she heard the
lulling call of the
owl, she was wary...
copyright 1989 walter read III
