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.
voice of silk
trickles over body
of passion flows
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
holding tight we free fall
return with a thud
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.