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Pale Wolf woke up in agony. He could not remember how he wound up in this place, nor what happened the night before. The only speckle of colour, the crusty red blood around his lips tasted dull and metal like. More blood came from his guts as he gaged and spewed. Vomit blood mix, stinking and corrosive built up little puddles around his aching feet.
Here it was again. He almost forgot about it. The burden, the disease, the pain in his face. Forgotten was the dwarfing pain. He thought he won the fight many years ago. But now it was back in all its sinister force. He wanted to hide, die, get away from it. But he had to follow through, find the aliment before the moon was up again, pale as himself, as cold as his heart. He left the dark corner and headed towards the dim light in the distance, freezing.

The little boy was shivering in angst. Not only because he was alone in the dark ruins of this evil looking building, but also because of the pain in his swollen, tearing eyes and the fire burns on his infected cheeks. His eye sight was limited, yet his sense of smell and his ability to hear and feel the slightest changes in the world around him enabled him to stay sharp. There was something approaching his hold. Was it the little flame, shedding dim light into this false world what attracted unwanted guests?
He sensed dirty wet fur, blood and vomit. Yet he could not see or tell for sure what it was. Only when two eyes in the damp darkness reflected the candle light, he was able to detect the dark visitor. Hiding in save distance. "Who are you?" the little boy asked. The being didn't answer, didn't move at all. The silence should have scared him, but for some reason the creature seemed familiar. Almost caring and good. He kept on looking towards the red glowing eyes and sucked in the energy they radiated.

As he came closer to the dim light, Pale Wolf’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was a young child sitting close to a flickering candle. Something was not right with the boys eye sight. He looked so hurt and in pain, so alone and cold.
He sneaked up even closer and as the boy turned his head, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and his eyes filled with tears. The little boy he was looking at was himself, many many years ago, when he first encountered the disease. He shivered at the sight of the dual reality right in front of him. He knew he wasn't dreaming or tripping out. This was real. He met his own past, his history. At the same day the damn plague showed up again. The waves of energy between him and the boy grew too much, forcing him to close his sad eyes.
Just some thoughts...
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Submitted on
February 2, 2013
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