Time was unimportant until the wolves came. They made themselves a clock. They told me it was time to fear, time to fight, and time to stay awake. They disrupted my night and my day. They made havoc on my schedule – what little of one I had before they came. The wolves made it unpleasant to live in the woods. They made it unpleasant to live at all. Soon they will come and tell me the time of day, like a grandfather clock clanging against the wall.
I hate the wolves. Yet, I’ve relinquished that nothing can be done about them. Physically they come in the silence of night just before dawn. Mentally they stay with me all day long.
I hate the wolves. They control me. They take the pleasures of life from me. They threaten to end my life.
“Why don’t you leave?” you ask.
“Because I can’t. There is no way to leave; no way to escape. I do not know where to go or how to leave.
I tried to leave, several times. It is a long and winding trek out of the wilderness where the wolves live, many days and many nights. Eventually, each time I tried to escape, I was reminded of the wolves and lost my way out. No matter how hard I tried, I would eventually think about the wolves while hiking my way to freedom and revisit the fear and dread they bring. When I awoke from those awful day-mares I would discover that I was lost. The path out of the wilderness was lost.
I was lucky I suppose. Each time I tried to escape only to get lost, I found my way back to the cabin. Cabin? No, not a cabin. This place once a haven of leisure and pleasure has become a dark dank cell. Yes, I am trapped here in this wooden jail in the middle of the wilderness; just me and the wolves.
There! Do you hear it? The first sound, the first hint that they are out there, the beginning. “Who can hear us?” is how they reveal their appearance. I know the meaning. They are saying, “Neither the fearful man nor God can hear us. So we may speak and act what we think fit.” They encourage each other with their evil plans for me.
I whispered, “God I hate the wolves. Why won’t they leave me alone? Why do they keep coming? What wrong have I done? What ill did I do to deserve the wolves?”
I stood and looked out the window, shaking my fist as I shouted, “I hate you wolves! Die be damned you! Die!”
I stopped, shivered, stepped back out of the window, pressed my butt against the couch, and looked down. That was a mistake. My battle cry told them I was here and ready to fight. They love a good fight, the wolves do. I suppose that’s why they have not kill me yet. Without me, they would not have anyone to fight, to harass, to maim, and to bring fear. They love the smell of fear, and I reek of it.
Discouraged I sank to the floor and whispered, “Damn you for sweating fear.” Once again I lean against both walls, hiding in my dark dank corner.
I lowered my head scolding myself, “What have I done? I’ve given them a battle cry. Now they’re singing it with their hunting cry, ‘Sweating fear, sweating fear. Now he’s sweating fear. Still and rank. Still and rank with sweating fear.’ Damn.”
I pulled my thoughts together, searching for sounds. The First was standing alone just outside the door. I could hear him breathing. He was the bravest and the strongest, which says a lot because all of them are stronger and braver than I. I could hear him breathing the smell of my fear. The rest were pounding the ground as they were running around the cabin. They are howling, “Sweating fear, sweating fear. How he’s sweating fear. Still and rank. Still and rank with sweating fear.”
A thought came to me; a ray of hope; a cleverly devised plan. I crawled over to the door so only the First could hear me; just he and I would have words. I made sure to keep myself lower than the window. I did not want the others to see me crawling over to the First.
When I reached the door he sniffed deeply. He knew I was there. He could smell my fear and anxiety. For him it was no better place to be; an inch from me, smelling me through the thin cracks in the door.
Softly and cockily I spoke to him, the First one, “I know something about you. You are brave and strong. You love fear and you love to invoke it. If fear were meat you would live forever on it. But there’s something else I know about you. You are brave and strong because there are many of you. You always come in a pack you wolves do. If there was just one of you, then things would be different. If it was just you and me the tables would be turned. You would not be brave. You would not be strong. You would stink of fear. You would reek of anxiety. You would be hiding in this jail and I would be on the outside smelling you.”
With ferocity, the First smashed into the door. The door splintered and cracked. I slid away from the door. Then I knew I was wrong. Even if there was just one wolf and it was he, he would be on the outside and I would be on the inside sweating fear, sweating fear. Now once again I am sweating fear.
The First licked the door. I scurried into the same corner that I was in before. Banishing myself I thought, “Damn you for challenging the Wolf. He will make game of you tonight. Perhaps you will die.” Fear and anxiety poured off my brow.
The wolves control me. They are my clock. I hate the wolves.
Finale tomorrow.
