Cracked

This story is the only comfort I have.

This is a story about a broken heart. It is also a story about a lost love and memories of something beautiful. Most of all it’s a story about solitude.

Have you ever seen the wolf cry?

The wolf came from the trees and stood on the rocky cliff overlooking the beaches and vast ocean he once admired and played next to. He could remember the cool water washing over his paws and the salty sea air teasing his nose.

He could remember the feel of the morning mist as it carried the sweet smells of the ocean to him. Most of all he remembered looking amongst the rocks in the low tides and being dazzled by the many seashells of different colors, shapes, and sizes. That was his sweetest memory.

He howled at the coming sunrise, at the song the waves made as they roared onto the beach, and at the sands and the entire ocean itself. He howled for grief, he howled for memory... he howled with all his heart and every bit of strength his lungs could muster.

It echoed across the beaches and rolled across the waters like thunder breaking the soundless night. Then he fell silent...looked at the shores and smelled the salty sea air one last time.

Then the wolf turned to the mountains...looked up at the towering, snow-covered peaks, the rock, the dark woods, the ice cold mountain creeks and all the things he knew so well....and he ran. He ran as hard as he could.

The trees blurred past him and the lowest branches grabbed at him. He ran as fast as he could until the cold caught up with him and his muscles screamed...and then he kept running. He outran the colors of the wind until he was a wisp of black and white.

When he finally stopped, he found himself on top of the snow covered mountains he saw from the sea cliff. Apart of him hurt deep in side another part of him felt home. Which he felt more he could not tell...so he sat there alone in his thoughts…and listened for the moment when the seashore called to him again.