The Sounds of Life

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Away from the road we move through the trees, guided by a song she’s been singing since the moment she first opened her eyes as a slippery babe smelling of butter and cheese and soft cotton blankets knitted by affectionate grandmothers in awe of the ever-turning wheel of life. As if understanding our plight, the branches of the trees part like curtains, ushering us to where we need to be. And that song- how it colours the woods so they appear as if drenched in sunlight. Only there’s no sun, just the moon that swoons and purrs as we leap into a clearing where for what seems like forever a frozen lake spreads in all directions. The fox lands on the ice and spins and spins and when I follow in tow, I spin too and together we spin like that ever-turning wheel of life. Like the galaxies above that look like stars, we spin with thrashing tails yapping half out of fear and half out of excitement. As our paws slip and slide as if on banana skins, I go to laugh but can’t- all that comes out is a strange eeeeekkk sound- but I’m laughing inside, and when I catch a glimpse of the fox’s eyes gazing at mine, I see that despite being out of control, he loves it just as much as I. Grabbing hold of his tail with my teeth, he pulls me along, and when I let go, I burst forwards like a shooting star, and as my claws scratch the ice leaving a signature as strange as my head and my heart, her song guides me along, and up in the clouds I see her as she used to be, and what she can become. A babe in arms smiling at the sights and sounds of life and then a bird in flight, free of the chains that bind it to the world below. It’s a curious thing for sure, but the best things in life always are. Yelping at the sky, the mist escaping my mouth wraps around my body, and as I spin ever faster into the night, like a Catherine wheel the orange of my fur becomes a blur upon the cracking sheet of ice.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

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