The Wolf and The Whistle

this is a short story about a young boy neglected by his irresponsible parents who do not even realise that their son is sick. warning: it's a bit sad and from the perspective of a seven year old boy.


1. The End

~Mummy: “You never listen to me anymore, you don’t love me and I know you spend all your time thinking about other women!”
Daddy: “Oh, you stupid cow, you’re so selfish, how could I think about other women when the only thing I can think about is your whining voice?!”
Mummy: “How can you say that to me? Who do you think you are, do you know what my father would do if I told him about this?”
Daddy: “Yeah, yeah we know your dad is the best in the whole world! Why don't you go marry him instead you witch?!”

I’m in my bedroom. I can hear them all the time. yelling and screaming. My pillow can barely block them out. I don’t understand, why does daddy want mummy to marry Grandpa? I just want them to stop yelling. It hurts my head and makes me sick. I want them to come and see me again. I need their help. I think something's wrong.
There’s pain in my chest. It burns and grabs at my chest. My body is on fire. It is almost as if someone has reached inside of me and started twisting and pulling at my insides. I clutch my stomach and moan into the sheet. I don’t want to move. Every movement makes my body howl in pain. Tears force their way out of my eyes another low moan escapes my throat. They won’t hear me. They never do. Mummy and Daddy haven’t even noticed my ‘incidents’ yet. The pain begins to subside and I am left with the dull ache that has been my constant companion for a little over 5 weeks now. I’m curled up into a ball. I wish Mummy and Daddy noticed. I wish they cared about me. I wish they loved me. Or, at the very least noticed me.
I stumbled over to my bedroom window dragging my sweat dampened sheets along with me. Gazing down the unused backyard, I noticed the forest at the back. The trees looked dark, yet so inviting. I decided to go outside. I grabbed my favourite jacket from my door. As I put it on I realized it was getting a bit small. Mummy had bought it for me years ago, at Disneyland, it had a faded picture of Donald Duck crossing his arms and glaring out angrily at anyone who looked his way.  Mummy hadn’t taken me to Disneyland in years, not since daddy lost his job. I opened my bedroom door and my poster of four stunning white wolves, they were supposed to be some inhabiting the woods near our house, fell to the floor. It usually did, the Blu tact was getting old and I didn’t bother asking for more. Mummy said, she doesn’t believe in buying things that ‘aren’t a necessity.’ Like jackets she told me, I could live without them. I tried to put the poster back in its place but this time, it just wouldn’t stick. So I folded it carefully and put it on my bed. I walked down the stairs carefully, but I wasn’t worried about being caught. Mummy was probably in her room and daddy was drinking on the couch and watching football. The back door wasn't locked and I pushed through without a sound. The cold bite of the evening air stung my cheeks and exposed forearms. Dew clung to the little grass that had survived the early onset of winter and the ground looked soft and damp. I pulled on my father's boots, unwilling to put my white socks at risk of possible mud stains. The boots were much too large and heavy. I had to drag each foot forward to move. I trudged slowly down the yard. We had no back fence a some old pine-tree stumps marked the boundary between wild wood and the suburbs. I found my favourite stump. It was closest to the trees and was slightly darker in colour than the rest. It was cool and solid, a perfect place to reflect on my very small, confusing life. I looked resolutely out at the darkening trees. I noticed some light mist gathering around the bases, I should have felt cold, sitting out in the late May evening. But instead I felt strangely warm. I don't know how long I stayed sitting outside in the silence, but it must have been awhile because I was curled in a ball on the ground and as I looked slowly around, I realized how much darker it had gotten. I got up quickly and hurried towards the house. I pulled at the back door but it wouldn't budge, it was locked. I called into the door,

"Mummy?!" but there was no answer and the house remained dark. I went around the front to try there but it's was locked too and the car was gone. They must have gone out, mummy usually goes to see Grandpa when's she's upset and dad goes to a bar, but I don't know what that is, what can you do with a bar anyway?                                                                        
I'm locked out and I don't know how to get back in, so I just decide to go back to my stump. As I sat there, I can feel more pain coming, I tried to think of a way to make it stop but it's already starting to hurt, pulling at me on the inside. I tried to think of something else but I can't. What if I practiced whistling? I'm actually getting quite good now. However my first attempt contradicts that when no sound comes out. My second is a little better but I cut off far too early and it sounds more like a half whistle. Finally on my when attempt I manage a perfect whistle. I repeat this many times and but soon I get tired and have to stop. I placed my hands on my knees and let my head fall between them, trying to catch my breath. When I feel like I might be breathing normally again I hear large snorting breath in front of me. I looked up slowly and met the eyes of the exact wolf from my poster. He, or she was an Ethereal white shade, it's hazel eyes seemed to glow. Staring hauntingly down at me with a superior air. My mouth gaped open at the sight of the creature in front of me. For some reason I knew it wouldn't hurt that it had just come to wait. But wait for what?
Suddenly intense spasms of pain racked through my body. I collapsed onto the ground moaning and crying out. Dirt filled my nose and burned through my throat. I couldn't breathe. Gasping for a reached trying to grab at the wolf. I wrapped my hand around its rough fur. It made a deep rumbling noise deep within its throat and repositioned itself as if to offer me a firm handle. But I had no energy. So I simply released the elegant beast and curled in a small ball tears escaping my eyes and rolling miserably down my flushed cheeks. I lay there in the dirt gasping for breath and wishing Mummy would come and find me. But deep inside I knew she wouldn't, I wonder whether, she even knew she still had a child. Or that maybe if I'd told her I was sick she might have been able to help me. But perhaps, it was far too late now. My biggest fear was not if they would find me but whether or not they would miss me. The white creature bent it's head and gently cascaded my face with small kisses. This small gesture of unexpected affection woke me momentarily from my oblivion of pain and misery. I looked up and met the eyes of my guardian, which now held a more playful glint.
My new companion raised its head and took a few steps back. I sat up slowly, my pain and sorrow seemingly non-existent. I stood up and walked over to the beautiful animal and turned back to watch a small form huddled in the grass and dirt unmoving and breathless.

The young boy's face was as pale and the large moon gleaming overhead and his lips as grey as the clouds stretching fourth across the cold, distant sky.
His wolf moved to walk back into the forest and the boy didn’t see any reason not to join him. The tall, welcoming trees held an embrace of which his mother and father had never offered. So the boy turned meeting the hazel eyes of his new playmate and descended into the forest to leave the life he had never lived.

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