He sits on a wooden bench, holding an open book in his hands—one hand for each side. The pages are brown from age. He reads using his eyes.
“The winter air was cold, biting into the skin of the bare arms of the two strangers. Somewhere in the night a wolf howled into the pale moon, the winter wind howled with it. The two strangers gripped their spears tightly, their eyes focused on the darkness, their ears alert, their face expressionless. The wolf continued on howling…”
The summer afternoon is hot, beads of sweat forms on his forehead. A drop slowly rolls down on his cheeks and onto page 32 of his book. The drop made a dark spot on the yellow page. He turns the page and continues to read…
“He could see his own breath. He doesn’t know where Tigerpaw was—everything happened fast, one moment they were looking for trail and then It attacked him from behind—they got separated right after. He continued on running. A deep wound rested on his right shoulder, a wound he got from Its claws. Drops of blood fell on the white winter snow, turning it black under the moonlit sky. He gripped his spear using his good hand. Somewhere in the night Tigerpaw’s screams echoed.”
The buzzing sound grows louder. Students are now flooding the lobby. Lunchtime is over. They sound like flies, pestering him, buzzing around his head. He hears glimpses of words: “He’s so cute!” “Let’s eat there again tomorrow…” “Back to studying again” “Hey…” “I know!” He absentmindedly wipes sweat from his forehead using the back of his left hand. He holds the book once more. He focuses on the letters of the book, trying to mute out the crowd. The letters burn in his eyes. The buzzing grows louder…
“Hawkeyes fixed his gaze on the devil wolf’s eyes—red and merciless. They burn into your soul, they hunger for blood. The devil wolf was as large as Hawkeye, if not, larger. Its paws dug deep into the winter snow. The devil wolf released a snarl. Its yellow teeth held in full display. Drool hung on its blackened lips. Hawkeyes held in his left hand the blade of his spear—the only thing left after its encounter with the devil wolf’s claws. For the first time in his life Hawkeyes felt fear. The devil wolf howled into the huge winter moon. Hawkeyes shouted his battle cry. The devil wolf leapt towards him—its huge claws, sharp and deadly, which Hawkeyes knew dug deep into Tigerpaw’s chest now hunger for Hawkeyes. Hawkeyes gripped the blade tightly and charged forward…”
A hand tapped his shoulder. You have a pen? The hand asks him. He nods. Can I borrow it for a short while? The hand continues to rest on his shoulder. He looks at the bottom part of the page of his book, it says 150. He closes the book and lays it on his lap. He gets the backpack beside him and reaches a hand inside. He tries to feel for a pen—papers, his notebook, and further inside, his pen. He takes it out and hands it to the hand. Thanks, it said. He reaches for his book. He tries to remember the page. 149? 148? No, it was 150. He opens the book to page 150 and scans the page for where he left off.
“Hawkeyes opened his eyes and saw the countless stars burning in the winter sky. He tried to remember what happened. The only thing that remained clear in his mind was that he managed to stab the devil wolf’s side. Hawkeyes tried to move but a sharp pain that rose from his right shoulder hindered him. He tried to touch his injured arm but felt nothing. He tilted his head to the right and saw his right arm, about three feet away from him. Suddenly images came flooding in his mind, starting with the face of Tigerpaw. Hawkeyes remembered.”
The sound of the hundreds of voices droning pervades the air, it pervades his mind. He can no longer concentrate on what he’s reading. Try as he might to tune them out, he always ends up in frustration. He tries to read.
“The looming figure of Tigerpaw towered above Hawkeyes, naked and sweating. Hawkeyes was still surprised to find Tigerpaw alive, surprised that…”
The voices continue to disturb him. The hand is back. It now rests on his shoulder. It’s time for class, it says. You coming? The hand leaves his shoulder and reaches something on the table. It reaches for his pen. Hey, we’re going to be late. The hand continues to pester him. The voices continue to increase in volume. The flies continue to buzz around his ears. He tries to continue reading.
“Hawkeyes tried to stand up with the help of Tigerpaw’s support. Hawkeyes’ wound on his right shoulder was patched with snow, to try to stop the bleeding. Hawkeyes looked pale. Tigerpaw explained to him everything: how he was alive, how he was cursed one winter night, and how the devil wolf and he are one. Tigerpaw stated that he loses control over himself each time he changes into the great beast. The wound that Hawkeyes managed to give the devil wolf helped Tigerpaw achieved control over the beast’s body. Hawkeyes fell to his knees. He had lost a great amount of blood. He stared at Tigerpaw’s face, the face of the devil wolf. Tears were streaming down Tigerpaw’s cheeks. Snowflakes slowly came raining down.”
Somewhere in the hallway the bells of a clock chimes. The hand is back, it keeps on poking him on the shoulder. The bell’s ringing, class is starting, and we are going to be late—the hand keeps on repeating the same statement. He slowly breaks into a cold sweat, he lets go of his book and reaches inside his left jeans pocket for a handkerchief. The handkerchief is black in colour, with bright sunflowers printed on them. He wipes his forehead. The buzzing of the flies is not stopping. The hand uses the pen now for poking him. He just wants to read. He takes a deep breath, and then exhales. He releases a scream. The flies become silent, the hand stops moving. He stands up and snatches the pen from the hand; he grins and stabs the hand using the pen. The hand screams in agony, blood slowly flows from the wound. He smiles. He sits down and reaches for his book; he opens it to page 200. I just want to read, he whispers under his breath.
