Thunder on the Mountain, Fire in the Lake
A dream sequence from another book I’ll probably never write.
Deidre shivered in the grey darkness. The ground a white blanket of snow with trees and shrubs thrusting their way through the frozen blanket. She had never seen snow in real life and was surprised at how hard it was. It looked so fluffy on the teevee. Her feet slipped as she walked. Not that she had anywhere to go. There were no landmarks discernable in any direction.
Something was missing, something important. She ached for something in every part of her body, a raging fire of need against the cold of the snowfield. She stopped still, a shiver of fear shot up her spine. Slowly, silently she turned around.
There before her was a dog that was not a dog. Something primal inside her screamed wolf. A strange detatched part of her said ‘Oh, that’s what a wolf looks like’. It was huge the hieght of one of her uncle’s great dane’s but broad, so broad across the shoulder.
Every part of the wolf was pitch black except the eyes. The eyes were not the bright, gentle eyes of the dogs she had grown up with, but the dead, feral eyes of a wild animal. Eyes that would eat you as soon as look at you. Most suprising of all was the colour, a shocking electric blue, like lightning against the night sky.
It stood there a lean streak of muscle watching her with those inscrutable eyes, his, for some reason she was sure of it’s maleness, breath fogging in the crystal knife air. Slowly, ever so slowly Deidre backed away from the intruder. He stood there aware of her movement but betraying no thought or action.
Once she had backed up a reasonable, or so she thought, distance, she turned and fled clumsily through the snow. Not looking back she knew that the devil-hound had begun padding behind her in chase, slowly ever so slowly increasing his pace. Toying with her.
In the distance she caught a glimpse of yellow-red light, a fire, she hoped. Panting heavily, she imagined the wolf’s breath upon her neck and picked up speed towards her saviour. An ear shattering howl pierced the air behind her. She picked up speed abandoning any attempt at grace.
The fire grew closer, agonizingly closer, almost within reach. She reached out her hand in an attempt to grasp the insubstantial. Behind her a rustling of snow, a growl, then something hit her back like a freight train. ‘No it’s not fair’ she screamed as the wolf grabbed her shoulder in it’s jaws and dragged her away from the fire, into the blackness.
Furphy
Very nice…. You really capture a sort of detached feeling, a dream-like quality, especially in the first couple paragraphs. Why not write that book…?
uriel1972
Thankyou, I have a few issues at the moment holding me back from the book, but I will try