I am running.
It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.
I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.
So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s a werewolf.
I want to know what kind of werewolf it is.
It feels very important to know its shape and size, whether it’s running on two legs or four.
Now I am in the trees.
Or it’s another me, a different me, one that is like a presence, or wind.
This me moves through the trees and watches the running me who is still being chased by the werewolf, which looks like a dark four-legged mass. Like an inkblot with legs.
The werewolf is nipping at the heels of running me and I watch as running me is finally able to move her neck and turn around to see what’s chasing her and that’s when her head falls off.
The head, detached, may start a life all its own. A job, kids, all of it.