Snow flakes floated like confetti to cover the landscape.
Stars twinkled in the darkness above.
Moon shadows danced across the snow.
A wolf howled in the distance calling his mates. Calling the pack to
arms.
The burning wood crackled in the fireplace. Sparks floated up the
chimney to escape into the chilled night air.
Warmth from the flames spread around the lounge room to keep out the
cold wind creeping through the walls.
Clay snuggled under the rug on the reclining chair, waiting. Waiting
like he did this time every year. He waited for Susan.
A very excited Susan rang home, earlier. “I have good news. I can't
wait to return home to be with you, my love.”
“What have you found to buy this trip,” he asked.
“I haven't spent a cent of your hard earned money, darling.”
“Can you give me a hint. Will I like the surprise?”
“I hope you will be ecstatic.”
I can't wait. Drive carefully, my love.”
Clay sat penning words of love to hand to Susan when she arrived
home. He struggled to find the right words to express his love for
her.
Love-
green
eyes
flash
fire
so
hot
voice
of silk
trickles
over body
melting
honey
of
passion flows
scorches
body
his
finger stroke
feather
light caresses
stoke
roaring sensations
we
breathe as one
tangled
in sheets
legs
twined together
we
reach the pinnacle
misty
clouds surrounded
heights
of passion escalate
balloon
explodes
holding
tight we free fall
return
with a thud
passion
spent
lust
or love-
Clay
placed the last stroke of the pen to paper when the phone ring
interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the clock above the mantle.
Time had passed while he had been engrossed in his thoughts of love.
Susan
should have been home over an hour ago, flashed through his thoughts.
“Susan.
Where are you,” asked Clay, on picking up the phone.
“Clay.
Sergeant Cook.”
“Sergeant.
How can I help you?”
“I'm
sorry, Clay. Susan...”
“Where
is Susan. Has her car broken down?”
“Susan
has had an accident. Your wife is dead.”
“She
can't be. I spoke to her a couple of hours ago. I'm coming...”
“Stay
where you are, Clay. The roads are closed. We don't want you having
an accident. I'll send someone to collect you when the road is
cleared.” The line went dead.
The
wolf cry on that horrendous winter told of his loss. Man, and beast,
called, in their own way, for the loss of a mate. A mate who was to
spend the rest of their life together.
Clay
was handed Susan's purse when her arrived at the police station after
notifying her body. He found the scan showing the new life due to
arrive in the future. He had suffered a double loss.
Now.
Each winter. Clay sits in front of the fireplace listening for the
call of the wolf. Tonight. No call echoed his sorrow.
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