Lupine Feast

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. The sign was posted above the frame. Huge letters -crimson, black. Smeared, grainy; indelible. My erstwhile host had disappeared. Like a phantasm he had appeared in the forest just as I thought I would surely die in this god forsaken wilderness.

The wolves were approaching, growling , teeth bared, hackles raised. Every snarl sent a shiver of terror through my quaking soul as I cowered there. Powerful jaws snapped open and closed like steel traps. Drool, hot …, dripping in expectation of the warm coppery taste of human blood. Closing my eyes I gave in to the certainty of death … Dismemberment … Ingestion.

When a weight fell on my shoulder I screamed. Like a little girl. A high pitched screech. Death did not follow. I finally gathered the courage to look up. He was tall, dusky, yellow eyes gleaming like a fire pit burning in the wilderness. My savior stared silently at the pack of voracious canines, one long fingered bony hand resting on my shoulder.

Tails tucked, glancing back with frustrated ire, the wolves melted into the forest. Trees - huge boles dark, pitted, rough, cracked - swayed closed behind them like the final curtain falling.

Silent as a wraith he led me here to this lonely cabin. Opening the door he gestured for me to enter. A skeletally thin arm gestured… encompassing the couch, fireplace, mantle, ancient creaking rocking chair. An index finger extruded… pointed … at the sign, the closed far door.

Howls approach. Claws… raking at the door… I could imagine the gouged splintery trails. Eyes staring in window - red, blazing, hateful . My bladder loosed. Without thought I darted to the forbidden door. Grasp knob … hesitate. Howling splits the night. Yank door… JAWS SNAP.