Where Ghosts Whisper and Wolves Howl

          The Wolf Fight

  An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life.

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.

  "One is evil--he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego."

  He continued, "The other is good--he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you--and inside every other person, too."

         The grandson then asked his grandfather,

                         "Which wolf will win?"

                  The old Cherokee simply replied,

                            "The one you feed."


Wolfen Lace

        by           Runere McLain                                                                        

             "Soft as _________,

                     rough as ___________."

Even now that ridiculous English assignment where each student had had to fill in the self-descriptive blanks tormented him.

Oh, not for himself.

Instead his thoughts had turned incessantly to her. His strange little combination of nerd and Goth-girl in highschool who'd inadvertantly fallen under his platonic  protection. Even now he shook his head over that strange  creature who'd excelled in all his advanced Senior classes. Younger by years than her other classmates, street tough, withdrawn, fierce to the point of almost feral when cornered. But something more than her intelligence had intrigued him . . .

Beautiful beneath the black-layered endevors to repel approach. On the rare instance her silence was breached, she responded only with caustic repartee.

But she didn't fool him . . . She was haunting, heat filled. He knew something else resided within her. After all, they'd spent that one glorious night together when he'd returned to town her Senior year. They'd burned hotter together than the final bonfire of the year that leapt and blazed beside the lake, throwing sparks into the night.

His jaw clenched, his fingers curling to tight fists. One night. Then she'd disappeared like mist, leaving him aching even into adulthood. She'd made him what he was: Cold. Bitter. Cruel. Doubting. Unable to trust.

A powerful Wolfen Enforcer without equal.

But nothing could change the facts. He'd looked into her strangely pigmented blue eyes and seen himself. To him she was  ever . . .


        Soft as mist,

          Rough as . . .


 And he'd found her again.


Runere McLain 2009