Posted in Nature, Nonfiction, Old Stories, Wolf

The Wolf, a True Story

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It’s 5:30 a.m., overcast and dark, very dark.  Driving to work from the country into town, I’m jittery and wide-awake after two cups of coffee.  In fact, I might be the only one who is awake – I meet no other traffic.  It’s the time of year when I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark.  I live far enough north for hibernation.

The headlights of my car fan out before me and tap the tops of trees as the road rises beneath me to the crest of a small hill.  As I reach the top and start toward the bottom, right in front of me, no time to brake, there is a wolf in the road.  Full of surprise, his yellow eyes meet mine.

I drive right through him.

No contact, no impact.

Stunned, my mind searches for answers: That was a wolf! No, it wasn’t a wolf; you didn’t hit anything.  But it was a wolf: long thin muzzle, gray and silvery ruff, rangy legs.  It wasn’t a coyote; it wasn’t a dog; that was a wolf!  It couldn’t have been a wolf, because it wasn’t there! No, it was there, I saw it!  How could you see a wolf?  They haven’t been here for a hundred years.  If it wasn’t a wolf, then what was it?

Parallel universes?  A hundred-year tear in a moment of time?  Science Fiction?  No, it was a wolf!  I saw it!

I glance into the rearview mirror.  Darkness, total darkness beyond the faint red glow of my tail lights.

Perhaps there is a wolf out there, loping away among dark trees, unnerved at his encounter with a huge two-eyed roaring monster that froze him in his tracks and disappeared at the moment it came close enough for him to smell its stinking breath.

We shake our heads, the wolf and I, trying to dislodge the strange scene, which disappeared as fast as it appeared.  Two convergent creatures tangling out-of-sync, caught in a collision of lives, of timelessness, creating for both of us an instant of absolute astonishment.  Above us, the whirling constellations leave fading paths across the sky.