type writer

crow | wolf | human

Crow: The crow is left behind as fall departs, leaving behind also a desolate cold and an impossible expanse of grey sky. He digs his wings into the grey and takes flight, clawing his way towards warmer roof tops. The tall weeds sway in the wake of his flight and soon wither to a decayed brown.

Wolf: Her fur glitters with dew in the strong moonlight of some mountainous forest. The frozen air melts against the hot breath of her pack and shakes with the timbre of their growls. She is death and life- an equalizer among the creatures of the wood. The wolf cannot decide if she is the silver edge of a sharp blade, glowing, or something more simple than that. The crisp crack of a branch draws her fangs from behind her lips. She is bound to the icy, winter moon and submits herself to the storm it stirs in her primal heart.

Human: Watch the lights in my eyes go out. Listen to the rhythm of my heart slow down. I’m fading to black in front of eyes that only see white. I’ll be the shadow that only exists in moonlight. I’ll be the ice queen, the crow’s black wing, the beautiful corpse that haunts you from the garden. You held my heart in your hand and watched with fascination as it turned to gold dust scattering in the winds.