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Tim Colwill is a 22 year old human male who resides in Perth, Western Australia. Inventor of the cardboard toaster and the car-powered car, Tim is also an accomplished author, having penned such notable works as Romeo and Juliet, Clifford The Big Red Dog, and The Bible. In his spare time, Tim directs movies under the nom de plume Steven Spielberg and maintains his own standing army of genetically engineered watermelons. Truly it is said that Tim has had an illustrious career, matched only by its ludicrously unbelievable exaggeration.

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Lupine Nights

// Filed under: Verbiage on Monday September 19th 2005, 2:11 pm

In my dream, I have a wolf. She belongs to me and me alone but I cannot grasp her; I cannot touch her for she is dark and mysterious, and I know her name, but nothing else. Even her name writhes and twists in my minds grasp, vanishing like velvet ink, splitting and reforming with shadowed purpose.

She is constantly moving, pacing, changing, impossible to pin down. Yet when I least expect it, she is there, haunting and beautiful, a familiar memory mingled with a new sensation.

My family loves her. “You two would be great together”, my mother exclaims, entranced and disquieting. Marry a wolf? But she is not always a wolf, in the moonlight she is a girl, gorgeous and smiling with the glow of a mind burning bright.

She pads through the silent corridors of my house, watches me as I sleep. My dogs sniff her with senses sharper than mine, tentatively, carefully, then with loving acceptance. I try to move, to speak; but I cannot. She dances in the moonlight, dances for me and I am struck by the memory of alien beauty. Every step is music and every image two, as the girl and the wolf move in poetic elegance, each a haunting afterimage of the next, an outline of a shadow in the night.

She tilts her head back; the wolf howls and the girl screams, primal, basic, a note of such sorrow and joy that it wreaths me, engulfs me and lifts me up into the night sky. The moon hangs, looming in the air, silhouetting me against the dark. I float in silence, comprehending a reality far more powerful than my own.

A tail brushes against my legs and I whirl around, terrified, curious. The girl stands before me, ghostly in the moonlight, her eyes gleaming and endless. She reaches out a hand, a paw, and wraps it in my own. She is warm and soft and deeply sad. There are so many questions I want to ask but I know I can not.

She places a delicate finger on my lips, and smiles.

// 5 Comments

5 Comments »

Pretty Boy Floyd says:

September 19, 2005 at 6:41 pm

BRILLIANT!!
Gussy says:

September 21, 2005 at 6:09 pm

I’d say, amazing writing. Loved it.
Cronos says:

September 25, 2005 at 8:13 am

Tim… I envy your writing abilitys… your nack for description and how you present it is stunning to me.
Let's say... Ben. says:

October 1, 2005 at 7:45 pm

Tim, nobody gives a freaking crap about your stupid writing, especially not those previous ‘commenters’ who pretend to. What you need to do is stop galivanting around like some girly ponce, and write something meaningful, like.

“Your mother is a cactus, rather like your father, no wonder they get on so well.”

Right there Tim, is some class, pay attention to me and you’ll go far. And once you’ve written this masterpiece, give me all the profit from the book sales that are sure to follow.
Doomy says:

October 3, 2005 at 10:50 am

That was really beautiful.