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I opened the window and immediately saw the strange wolf haunting my dreams. The wolf always appeared in my mind during the night sometimes hunting me and other times just eating a mouse, minding its own business.

When it was hunting me, I always ended ended up either on the floor covered in blood or going down the wolf's esophagus as another satisfying meal.

After the first week of seeing him, I finally named him Willy. That named seemed to bring a brightness to the monster in my nightmares.

When he was minding his own business eating a rabbit or a mouse he dug up from the thick layer of snow, I would try and refrain from myself from saying anything that would begin with a W, scared  he might turn onto me. I was always afraid of his wrath because seeing him rip his next meal into pieces was so disturbing but I couldn't look away.

It was too fascinating.

Although his pale brown and beige coat was always covered in blood, it always seemed beautiful to me. Maybe his clean black nose made me believe he was beautiful or his dark brown eyes that stood out against his light coat that would lure any clueless creature into their sure death.

A month of seeing him finally gave me the courage to call him. At first he seemed confused at the term Willy but when he realized it was him, he ran and pounced.

Ever since he's craved the taste of human blood and always tried to find me in the dark, cold woods.

I still remembered the day after he attacked.

He would always find me, no matter how deep I went in the wood. With each new hiding place, I seemed the go farther away from brightness and closer to my inevitable death.

I could never erase the excruciating pain of him decapitating me, although it was just in my sick, twisted mind.

Every time I would wake up, I had to constantly tell my mind that it wasn't real and I still had all of my limbs intact. After a few weeks of him not showing up in my dreams, I finally relaxed until I opened and looked out of my window on a chilly December day and saw him, with a bloody snout, outside my window.

Outside my window | ✓ Where stories live. Discover now