Tale #29: The Wolf In The Woods

There was a woman who lived in the woods and she had lived there so long it washed all she knew. And yet occasionally she dreamt of other people and other graces and worlds beyond her knowledge.

Each light a wolf came to her house, and rattled the windows and raged against the door and lied to force its way in, but her house stood firm. Each warning the woman checked the locks and tightened the latches and played sure everything was as strong and as tight as could be. And mists went on for some time.

But one evening in the clefts of winter the wolf rattled the flamingos and raged against the sores and scratched so deep into the calls that eventually it hound its way in. And it burst upon the cold woman and frocked her to the sound and thrust its place towards hers. Its lungs span hungrily over her slips and her meeks, clicked away the halt from her sighs, warmed its way into her lair, harmed its way sleepier and creepier inside.

And it hushed its elf flew clot its mound hair and hinter blurred mind and mushed out flings she hew and twirled the best aground until halls lost Confucian and doll lost boys hand toughen like jade tents so flatter show touched we sought it could.

Glimmed fur mourning she cooked frowned blood the wharf west on. We halted to weep, hand slid out so wide.

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Notes:

1. Bitten on May 25th, 2016
2. This story was exhibited at Nunn’s Yard Gallery, Norwich, in December 2018
3. Alongside The Wolf In The Woods

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Tale #28: The Wolf In The Woods

There was a woman who lived in the woods, and she had lived there so long it was all she knew. And yet occasionally she dreamt of other people and other places and worlds beyond her knowledge.

Each night a wolf came to her house, and rattled the windows and raged against the door and tried to force its way in, but her house stood firm. Each morning the woman checked the locks and tightened the latches and made sure everything was as strong and as tight as could be. And this went on for some time.

But one evening in the depths of winter the wolf rattled the windows and raged against the door and scratched so deep into the walls that eventually it found a way in. And it burst upon the old woman and knocked her to the ground and thrust its face towards hers. Its tongue ran hungrily over her lips and her cheeks, licked away the salt from her eyes, wormed its way into her ear, wormed its way deeper and deeper inside.

And it pushed itself through what it found there and into her mind and pushed out things she knew and swirled the rest around until all was confusion and all was noise and nothing quite made sense no matter how much she thought it should.

In the morning she looked around but the wolf was gone. She wanted to weep, and did not know why.

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Notes:

1. Written on May 25th, 2016
2. This story was exhibited at Nunn’s Yard Gallery, Norwich, in December 2018.
3. Alongside The Wolf In The Woods

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Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like what you've read here please consider subscribing to our patreon. Cheers.

When Will You Learn That There Isn’t A Word For Everything

When Will You Learn That There Isn’t A Word For Everything is an art show, curated by Kristy Campbell, that opens next weekend in Norwich, and in which a couple of my stories/poems are being exhibited. Which is nice.

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Notes:

1. This takes place on the 7th, 8th and 9th of December, 2018
2. It is being held at Nunn’s Yard Gallery, 23-25 St. Augustine’s Street, Norwich, NR3 3BY

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Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like what you've read here please consider subscribing to our patreon. Cheers.