This tale is an adventure-fantasy story about a boy's life. The story may be short, but it tells a lot.


1. My Wolf

~~One who looks into the eye of a wolf sees amazing things, and I've always wanted one. Their long curly tails dance as they move, their fur is like snow glistening, as if they were diamonds. I heard myths about them, and I believe in every one of them. Wolves touch my heart in a way nobody could ever explain. Their wildness and freedom overwhelms me with excitement. I've had an amazing adventure with these animals, and I'll never forget it.

 If my Daddy had nothing to do at our barn, we would hike around in the forest. I'd find bottle caps, rusty old bolts, ropes, and sometimes even shovels and axes lying around out there. I could vividly remember the first time I saw a wolf. I was 'bout 10 when my father and I were visiting the “froggy pond,” a small lake that I had named when I was small. Daddy had cleared a trail for us to walk all around the marsh. He was the best daddy a lil' country boy like me could ever have.
 I always loved going to the pond. It was hypnotizing, the way that the fish swam in the shallow water, and the frogs sitting lazily on a lily pad, and the dragonflies, hovering just above the waters. Even the atmosphere made me smile.
 One afternoon, we went fishing in the froggy pond. My daddy caught a bucket full of fish, and I caught a few, which I decided to let go of. A thin fog set in, making the whole forest look magical. Daddy suggested  it was time to go home, so we packed our gear up and started walking. Sure enough, there he was! “Daddy look! A white fox!” I whispered excitedly. “that's no fox, son! That there is a wolf!” I became obsessed with them ever since.
 During fall time, the leaves change to the reds, and greens, browns and yellows and oranges, the sunsets were more beautiful than ever. Mama always knew where to find me in the evenings; on the roof of the barn. Every evening, I'd meet eyes with Nature himself. The Lord splattered red, blue, gold, pink and oranges across the west horizon. I'd watch as it died down, like embers in a fireplace, leaving behind a marvelous navy blue with glitter scattered throughout the sky. It was a wonderful place to stare and admire.
 Mama would always call me in when super was ready. I'd climb down the barn ladder, throw some wheat to the sheep and cows, and meet Mama at the house. Our home was a small, brick fortress. Mama would always be so busy planting tulips and roses and lilacs and daisies, even exotic flowers like azure bluets, or alliums. Our house was small, but it was a beautiful place. By the time I got in, I was usually too tired to think, so I'd have to be reminded to fetch the logs from the shed. Each night during fall and winter, I'd go into the woods and down a trail leading to a rusty old shack, where old, wood, bolts, screws, planks, and tools were stored, most of which I found in the woods. I grabbed some logs and a couple of matches and ran home. I'd use the matches to set a translucent orange glow in our hearth. That would be the heat of he night. During winter, my sister and I would sleep next to the fireplace, because we'd sleep easily there.
 Fifteen long minutes of waiting later, dinner was ready. I'd be starved, but we'd always have to pray before we ate. My daddy would recite a quick prayer. “Dear Lord, thank you again for a wonderful meal. We are so blessed to share this food with each other. Please help those who may need what we have right now. Amen.” As we ate dinner, someone would set a conversation. When there's nothing to say, we'd listen to the crickets playing a mellow tune, the owls reciting their opera, and the coyotes howling in the wind.
 The next day, I was headed to the shack once again, when I saw something lying limp on the ground. It was Wild. His eyes glistened like a full moon on a clear night. His teeth were sharp and white as a sword. He was in shock, and I could tell he's been attacked by another wolf. I rummaged through the shack and found an old, greasy first-aid kit. I wrapped a cast around his wounds and carried him to the barn. I gathered some logs and lit a fire by him. Sprinting, I ran to Daddy and told him. “Daddy! There's a wolf in the barn! I saved him!” I took some steak and my Daddy and I sprinted over to he barn. As we approached, I saw my new half-asleep wolf.
 “Son, that wolf ain't gonna survive.”  my dad muttered. “Yes he will, Daddy! I'll take care of him! Don't worry!  I'll feed him and make sure he's well.” I persuaded Daddy until he finally allowed it. “If that rascal gets into the sheep pen, you WILL be responsible,” Daddy added. “Yes, sir!” I agreed. Ten minutes later, I ate dinner in silence, thinking of a plan.
 After dinner was over, my sister and I went up the creaky old stairs to our rooms. I couldn't sleep at all that night. Avoiding the creaky stairs was difficult, but I eventually made it outside. I slept in the sleeping bag inside the barn. Wild was sound asleep, and before long, so was I. For days and days, I tended to him; feeding him, watching over him, and  making sure he was well.

 Weeks later, at 6:00 AM, the sunrise was barely visible across the horizon. My wolf was much better, and was ready to return to the forest. I peeled off his cast, and he started for the road. Greens, purples, yellows and pinks were splattered all over the sky. Thin fog had settled in the air once more. Wild's eyes said it all, “Thank you!” they bellowed loudly. That was the last time I ever saw him. He left a legacy that was passed on to my children, and eventually to my great grand children. Most people know about the tale now. The tale of the Wild.

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