The wolf and IA true Story
I was the first to see the wolf. I noticed him even before he saw us. But I think perhaps I am getting ahead of myself; let's start from the beginning.
It was April 2001, and my beautiful wife and I had driven over 700km (435 miles) to spend the night at the home of my father's sister, Jeanne-Berthe, in the town of Saint-Quentin, New Brunswick.
My employer, in a brief moment of insanity, had seen fit to allow me the choice of a Ford Mustang as my company fleet vehicle. I had been driving it for almost six months by then, enough to have learned to respect its loose, tail-happy road handling characteristics, and even to embrace them as somewhat endearing. Armed with four new Blizzak ice tires and the confidence of a recently completed advanced driving class, the snow covered rural highways were my playground.
We left Saint-Quentin early Sunday morning, heading for Halifax to visit
The Real TruthSpeak up. Stand out. Be you.The Real Truth11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Messages that lead to alternatives.
We get judged for our thoughts.
Thoughts we are told to share.
We dress how we want.
Then are teased and taunted for our uniqueness.
Uniqueness, what a load of crap!
If you aren't the same as everyone else, if you don't blend in, you are bullied and hated, judged for things you can't help.
If you want to wear something bigger than size zero or extra small.
You are called fat, a cow, blimp.
Why don't people see true beauty in things?
Its a technology world, looking at nature from a screen.
Screens that show hatred and mockery for you, to the world from " friends" or strangers.
Things like facebook or twitter, showing people with undeserved praise, but your achievements are discredited. Who really cares about your selfie.
People who are considered beautiful by society's standards can lack inner beauty.
People who are sub-par are forced to endure such emotional tragedies.
Wondering if this is sarcasm or a prank.
Hiding in sh
AloneI am alone in the ground floor apartment, the one we have shared for almost two years. I lie in bed listening, waiting for the discreet sound at the back door announcing that he is home. The solitude is oppressing. How many nights I've lain here quietly, listening to the sound of my breathing and wondering when or even if he will return. Lately, he has been coming home later and later, and I am sometimes tempted to ignore him, to lock him out and not let him in.Alone3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Of course, if I did such a thing he would simply go and spend the night with one of his many mistresses, leaving me all alone with my heart broken, worrying. The address on his license is mine, but he has made it abundantly clear that I do not own him, command him, or have any claim to his affections. He shares his love because he wants to, and stays only because he chooses to.
He is quite handsome, a fact that is not lost on him; vanity s
Awaken the Addict, Pt 1It was so unassuming.Awaken the Addict, Pt 12 years ago in Drama More Like This
It just sat there, on the soft, rumpled surface of the comforter that lay over his bed.
The white plastic plunger. The clear, millimetre-marked canister, filled with an equally diamond-hued liquid. The long steel needle, glittering dangerously, daring those who looked at it to fall into it's hellish trap.
If it was good enough for him...
Dusty blue orbs regarding this instrument of injection in front of him. He didn't even remember how he came across it, but he knew that it sat with him now, whispering to him, like some shadow of a long-ago demon, desperate for attention once more.
His eyes hurt...too much crying. Eyelashes were marred by drops of salt water, as tears continued to stream forth. His breath came at a steady rhythm, with a tremble, and the horrible weight of grief on every lengthy sigh.
Three years ago.
Three years ago today...
That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?
Leave a note? When?
He picked u