Extended Circle and Wolves (Chapter 2)

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    Extended Circle and Wolves (Chapter 2)

              I heard screaming a quarter mile away, from right where the main part of the festival was held. I didn’t know what was going on, couldn’t tell you if anyone was gonna die, or if some dumbass just wanted to scare everyone; all I know is that I didn’t have a good feeling about it. A knot filled my stomach, a lump crawled up into my throat, and a cold chill ran the course of my spine. I had a strong feeling this wasn't just some dump teenage prank. . . but then again if it wasn't that what the hell could it be. 
            I shrugged away from Chris, and bolted for the food court.
            A moment later he realized why I ran off. Trust me -- I wanted to stay like that forever but -- something didn’t feel right today. All morning I felt a static in the air, uneasiness, a bizarre enthusiasm. This wasn’t a thunderstorm static this was an eerie feeling. Worst of all it was a feeling I just couldn't shake. 
              Chris sprinted off ahead of me, across the hay field into an endless gray sky with a speck of yellow: the harvest moon. The wolves started singing again but this time it made me uneasy, a strange twinge filed up my back as we run along the farmer’s tracks. Even in this adrenaline filled moment of terror I couldn’t help but stare at his butt as we ran towards the shriek. A couple minutes of intense sprinting later we arrived back to the main square and what we saw horrified us.
              Maria was sprawled out on the ground and a large cut was etched into her arm and a shallower one slashed her face. A large crowed hovered around her but I did not see John which was really curious ‘cause Anna was there, so was Matt, and ninety percent of the town. For some reason instead of thinking about all the things that could happen to Maria I was thinking: John didn’t shave today his beard grew an inch overnight. Why, why am I questioning his grooming habits Maria had a gash and was getting pulled into the patrol car? Forty-five minutes later the gang –minus John— was by her bedside while the cops asked her what the hell happened and the doctor did a follow up on her new stitches.
              And that is when the world really fell apart. She said she was walking back from the carving table and a wolf, but not quite a wolf, jumped out at her. Apparently it pined her down and in doing so put the new little dint into her dimpled cheek. But curiously she said then it licked her and ran away? Anna said it was almost like she got in its territory but then it recognized her and ran off?
             “Where’d John go, I haven’t seen him since we split up?” I asked Anna.
             “I don’t know? Last thing I knew he said his stomach hurt, I kissed him goodbye and he headed home,” she replied.
             The doctors told us to get out let her rest etc. and we headed to the bonfire pit at Sara’s. though there was not much partying as normal we all were worried and drilled about Maria.

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    jj1562’s Poems (142)

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