Monday, April 7, 2014

The Wolf at the Door: 400 words

     I had worked later than I realized and now the building was empty. It was getting dark outside. I ran home as fast could. My house came into view and I ran to the front door; risky, since I didn't have the key, but I just needed to get inside as fast as possible. I jumped up the steps to the door and knocked. My sister let me in.
     I tried to close the door but a wolf slammed against it and kept it open. We struggled against opposite sides of the door. Through a gap in the doorway I could see the wolf's car, and a friend standing by him. My two sisters watched as I struggled.
     "Get a knife!" I shouted to my older sister.
     She stared at the door and did nothing.
     "Get a knife!" I yelled again.
     She hesitated. She did not want me to die, but she might have steeled herself to the inevitable. Also, she no doubt felt something for the wolves, which I felt myself: they were only doing what they must.
     Outside the wolf had turned into a man. He was hungry and stronger than me. He burst through the doorway.
     I grabbed a broomstick to push him back. Suddenly, my older sister launched herself at him, carrying them both outside. I was shocked by my sister's actions, but the wolf kept trying to get inside. I stepped outside and with a great shove of the broom handle, pushed the wolf off the step. My sister ran inside. I shut the door and locked it, but it did not lock.
     "It's locked!" I said. "It counts as locked!"
     "All right," the wolf said. "It counts as locked."
     Outside I saw him become a wolf, then a lion, then give up and become a man. Before they left, the wolf's friend asked for my phone number. I gave a false number and she took it. I felt a surge of victory. I felt like a person who knows how to manipulate the success of her own life.
     Later that night we all went to bed. I slept downstairs, in the living room; I think this is the way my sisters want it. Before my older sister went to bed, I told her about a dream I'd had. "Your dreams are not that interesting," she said. I knew she was right.

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