Somewhere in the past, there’s a place, a scene, in the woods. A group of men, hunters with their guns and torches and dogs, walking up a mountain, in the wood. Suddenly, the men stopped, not moving, same as those they faced up front. Wolves, two wolves with snarls and growls, facing the men. The only light that lightens the dark, the men and the wolves were from the torches. Behind them there’s darkness, but it’s darker from behind the wolves. The two wolves stood on a higher ground than the men, not moving an inch, defending their grounds of where the feet stood.
Two men moved slowly, one braver than the other, but both hated what they see. They moved closer to the wolves while holding a fork each. One moved closer, slowly and with displeased eyes. The wolves felt threatened. One wolf dashed out and bites one of the men’s hand. The shouting of a man in pain was heard that night. All of the men who stood behind started to act upon the scene. The two wolves felt nervous. The wolves stopped defending their grounds. They wanted to run, and so they made a turn, wanting to flee but the men were quick enough to surround the two wolves. One loop swung to one wolf’s neck and then the other. They were captured. Resist they could but to no use. The dogs made it worse with their barks and growls.
Captured, they were put in a cage. A very wide and spacious cage. A dark cage. The rail was black in color but it’s not dirty and the floor was grey. Nothing to please the eyes and now it is filled with two wolves. The wolves were bigger than the dogs but not big enough to match a man. They were black, wild, untamed, and now they’re chained inside the cage. The wolves do not like it but one is vicious than the other. The keeper, a man in his mid 30’s, sprayed them with a bucket of water to tamed them, to stop the growls, the bark and the desire to sink their teeth to the man’s neck.
One day, as usual, the sky is gloom. It was dark during the day but even darker at night. There’s a girl, a little girl, innocent and curious, brought in by a man, the keeper. The innocence of the girl can be seen in her eyes, for all she sees were pets and not animals. Curiosity, she had it also in her eyes. The keeper smiled, seeing this little girl he brought with, and with his hand on her back, leading her the way. The little girl could not see the man’s face nor did she choose want to, for she is small and it felt such a bother to lift up the head just to see who it is. Besides, she’s already known the man. They walked to the cage, the earthy path is not far, where the mountain is right next to it. The pathway is just enough for one man and so, the little girl walked first and stopped at the side of the cage for it is big.
She held both her hands on the rail for the two wolves situated at the far end of the cage. Their necks were chained. “Sometimes they are splashed with water to stop them from being too vicious”, the other man said. There were two men just outside the cage, next to the wolves, where the rails were the only boundary between them. They were the ones who did the splashing since the keeper became a tour guide for the little girl, at least for that day. The little girl sees these with her hands still on the rail, not saying anything. She felt the wolves do not belong there. “Why are they chained?”, she looked up to the man who lean in just to get closer to her, in order to hear what she said. “It’s for their own protection.”, said he with a smile. As if this was nothing but it is something for the little girl. She did not smile. She just looked back to the two wolves being splashed once a while for they do not sit still. The two wolves did not plan to be anyone’s slave. They were born wild and that’s what is supposed to be like. The little girl has gone now.
Night came. There’s a secret to this particular wolf. When the night came, he changes into a man. I don’t know how for there’s no magic in it, no pixie dust, no alteration of the body but all I see is just him at night walking down the street and I just know its him…the wolf.
It was winter and there was snow. A man in his early 30’s walked on a pathway, enough for two people. I see his back from my view, walking down the street. On his right, there’s a main road. An empty road and on his left were houses. Houses that were squeezed together. There were lamp posts aligned to each other, facing toward the pathway. The man walked among others. They all wore dull clothes. Winter clothes in black and grey color. The only thing colored were the houses, where one or two colored in red orange but that too was not enough to light the day or the mood. The sky was not blue. They were grey and the wind was cold. The road was dark for there was no light. At the further end of the pathway, just off the pathway but not enough to go to the main road, there were two seats. A couch facing the pathway and a rocking chair, just behind the couch. The man stood in front of the couch, sit and rested his hands on the side. The man did not look down, left or right, but to look straight ahead with a blank stare to the people who walked by. I wonder where they’re going…they seem busy, seem to have a destination.
Then there’s a voice. A woman’s voice. A familiar voice to the man. The urge to turn around was great, his eyes moved a bit, but the man chose not to. The woman tells a story, in a small voice, but enough to be heard by the man. It was a story, then another and another. She sits on the rocking chair, knitting and telling stories to him. At first, the man felt annoyed. He seems to not really care of what’s going on with the woman’s life or her stories but slowly he started to listen quietly. The woman seems motherly with a warm smile, telling her stories. She did not turn her head up to look at the man, no. She just smiled, telling her stories in content, just like a mother would to her child just before bedtime, while looking down on her knitting. This event happened continuously, but only in the night of winter and snow. Same routine. At day a wolf, a bored wolf that laid its head on the floor, ate when its hungry and drank when its thirsty, chained in a large cage. At night, a man, walking down the street, on the same pathway, sitting on the couch, looking straight , with the same woman behind him, rocking her chair and knitting, and telling stories with her warm look. This happens every winter night.
After several winters, I’ve noticed there’s a ring. A wedding ring on the man’s finger. The snow seems thicker than usual and the man looked old now. He had become an old man. He walked through the thick snow a bit slower than usual. That night, he tried really hard to see those two seats, sitting at the far end of the pathway. People busily walked by in front of him, behind him and in the opposite direction of him. Finally, he stood in front of his couch. His couch was covered with snow. Behind the couch, he can see the usual, but an empty rocking chair. He sat with both hands on the side of the couch, rested. He looked straight ahead, casting a blank stare to passerby. It seems as if he couldn’t care less about the people. He waited and he waited, but there was no voice. A voice that he was familiar with was not there. He stood up, and after a minute or two, he turned around for the first time. The rocking chair behind him was still empty. Suddenly, a passerby who was with someone, deviated from her path and approached him saying, “She said to meet you there”. He seems to know where “there” is. He grabbed his coat and proceed to the place.
There, he stood in front of a door. He paused for a while before opening the door slowly. He could see through the creek of the door, as it was opened wider and wider and the creek became larger and larger. He saw her laying on the bed, not moving, covered with a blanket, and her hands were placed on top of her body. There was only her in the room. A window, a tall and wide window allowed the light to pass through. I’m guessing it’s the hospital, judging by the oxygen mask that she had, covering half of her face and an IV drip, standing tall right next to her bed. She looked old and dying…
The old man entered the room slowly. He felt hurt and it was reflected in his eyes. He walked straight to this unmoved body. He stood for a while at the end of her bed, then proceed to sit on an empty chair next to her. He stared at this woman without touching her. Grey hair and wrinkles can be seen on her hands while her hands were closed together. He wrapped his hands with his coat, folding his hands together and hugging himself. He lean in and stared at her, hoping for her to tell stories as usual, liked she used to. The light that filled the room has changed to orange light as the day almost begun again, from night to day. The woman let out her last breath once, twice and finally the third time under the mask. The old man just watched her, without any expression his face or any words, till the very last moment. Then he got up with his coat, and went home.
That day, the sun was up, the sky was bright but the wolf was not. The wolf looked sad and lethargic, refusing to move with its head on the floor, even when the keeper came in to fill the empty bowls with water and food. The keeper noticed this and felt worried.The next day, early in the morning with the morning dew still there, the keeper wore his winter clothes, covering every parts of his body except his eyes, came in to check on the wolf. The morning light shine through the cage and there, the wolf still with its head on the floor and its fur covered with snow, it had frozen to death.
My first time drawings and very proud of them. Thank you for your read
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