Fate of the Gypsy-Hog…

Posted on: March 29, 2012


Angel and Chaos are two creatures of the night I had the ‘good?’ fortune to meet through another’s eyes. They are her pets; her muses, if you will. She graciously shared them with me as they came to me in a dream; they are playful, vicious, watchful and loyal. Her name is Erin, you might wanna check out her blog, Whispers in the Dark, as I believe she is the next Stephen King/J.K. Rowling/Rosemary Rogers all rolled into one, and we will soon have to pay for what she offers us freely… OH, if you DO visit her, PLEASE encourage her. Leave a message… Remind her to get busy…we’re waiting for the next installment… (You can also visit her on FaceBook, just sign in/up and Whispers in the Dark is waiting for your reading pleasure…) 


The panther stalks the path. Soft pads soundless against the sand. Pale moonlight washes over sleek, muscular black. Restless. A gust of wind rattles the leaves on the Aspens, their song raspy, dry. Her ears perk forward, she sniffs. Nothing, just the water, lapping at the shore. 

She descends along the shadowed corridor, warily, ears and nose twitching. Restless. 

Standing in the thicket, black-eyes peer, waiting patiently. The soft-sand shore is narrow and long. A mile or more before closing into dense brush. The fresh water lake, the only one on the planet, is enormous. All life is sustained from this single source. And something isn’t right. A shiver ripples over her; she licks her lips. 

A pack of Gypsy-Hogs waddles cautiously from under the brush; two take up sentry duty while the rest drink thirstily. A crackle in the dry underbrush causes her to turn her head. She watches with interest as the massive, lone wolf stalks down through the shadows, inching closer to the Gypsy-Hogs. The Gypsy-Hogs, unaware of their fate, happily slurp away until one of the sentry’s shrieks a shrill warning. 

She smiles, her lips curling back, her teeth deadly points of white calcium gleaming in the clear moonlight, as the Gypsy-Hogs scatter, their high-squeals echoing across the vast open lake. The wolf’s snarls and crashing in the brush suddenly cease, as a spine-tingling shriek pierces the night-wind. She settles in the brush, licking her paw. The wolf will eat well tonight. 

She smiles at the large Gypsy-Hog crushed under her other front-paw, as it so unfortunately chose to run straight towards her in its attempt to flee the wolf. She, too, will eat well tonight. 

She lets out a mighty roar that shakes the trees and echoes long up and down the lake. Restless.    

“Young and restless; runnin’ outta control…;
young and restless…; headin’ for the… overload…”


Comience como usted desean continuar;
Begin as you intend to continue… 

PS: Not exactly a dream sequence, but inspired by the shadowy-visions I received in a way I can only describe as unconscious consciousness… They have since returned, bringing other visions and sharing their antics… I am busily trying to send them back to Erin on a more permanent basis, I think she needs their care more…
TOMORROW… I have no idea… I’m busy re-writing The Elevator, I may bring you the parts I choose NOT to use… *grin* (maybe you can convince me to use them/it… I hate to waste 7,000 – 10,000 words…)


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