At the moment of consistency, the cloud of diplomacy rolls in, leaving her exposed, with nothing but this hood to shield her from the drops. The wolves creep close, but to the sides where all blindness lies. She can feel them closing in, but does not falter with her widened eyes focused upon the path before her. She knows these wolves too well. they prowl at close distance, deeming themselves sleek and cunning, watching their prey, yet never approaching and claiming the desired victim. Their vanity is too great. They make their prey their leader and sacrifice her destination in order to adhere to the laws of terror.
Blinders on, she proceeds with a memory of wonderland in the days past. She hears a snap to her left and considers crumpling to the ground in a bright red snail shell, waiting for the darkness to fall and cover her unsuspecting intimidation. each foot falls in front of the other as the landscape moves in her sight. Hearing deadened, she creates her own soundtrack of the ravenous breath upon her heels, saliva dripping into the mud behind her every step.
She remembers the doors, each leading to the next; this one small, too small for her body to fit, yet she somehows makes it through. The next is too large. Her small hand cannot reach nor grasp the full doorknob, so she pushes through with all of her force and begins to fall. If she could fall now, she could release the sound of those steps behind her, and the howls of the unknown could finally begin. She begins to crave that sound; to hear those predators’ fear, just as they thought they had claimed hers.
This is when my laughter escapes, peeking through my cover, mocking the unseen guests as the host begins to skip, hood falling behind her, allowing the drops to cascade down her lightened face.
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