Monday, April 14, 2014


A few minutes ago, it was midnight, a full moon, and I stood with my back to the screen door on my deck surrounded by wild howls of coyotes. It made me think of the kill, of a gang running down a street, of Dante's Inferno, of the beginnings of so many horror flicks.

I stood outside, shivering in my light jacket, looking at the bright moon.

I can see where the stories came from. The call of the coyotes was not one sound. It was water flowing down a river, a woman screaming in ecstasy, mythical creatures transforming.

I have looked a coyote in the eyes. Granted I was in my car. That evening a few months ago, as I slowed to get a better look, he stared at me, through me. He took on a larger space that the limits of his physical form. He owned the space between us. I would not have wanted to meet him on foot. I would not have wanted to see him tonight, not even as I stood a foot away from the safety of my door.

It was enough to hear the group of them calling, screaming, laughing, first from one side of the house, then to hear that their sounds had moved to the other side. A shiver went down my spine. I wanted to run inside and lock my door. I stood with my hands at my side, fingertips touching my thighs the way they tell you to do when you're nervous during a presentation. I breathed in and out slowly.

I tried to howl, but it was false and weak. I told myself it was because I didn't want to wake my family, but that wasn't it. Not really.

I could not join into the howling tonight because I was afraid. I could never join them. I could never be that wild on my own. If I did, I'd risk becoming prey. Or worse, I could transform into that mythical beast and never return.

Thank you for listening, jules

No comments:

Post a Comment