Otto let all these memories, far and near, flood his brain’s
memory pathways, because he did not want to think about that bark and that voice.
One was eerily familiar. The other more than a little scary. Then, when he had
run through his twelve hears of memories, he became curious and turned his
attention to the broken silence and allowed himself – this time voluntarily –
to settle into the rift between the cheeks of dark emptiness. Once he focused
his awareness on that emptiness, that silence, again the deep emptiness broke, interrupted by an enormous wind rushing into his face, blowing back his dark-brown
hair, and making his eyes sting. Then, again, this time borne on the rising wind:
one bark and one syllable spoken in a girl’s voice: “Aught.”
If Wink had been there, Otto thought, she would know what to
do: bark and growl doing her protection job even if she was mightily alarmed.
Nothing would keep her from her duty. The bark expanded into repetitive yaps, snarls,
and yips. Strangely, no dog appeared. Then Otto knew: he would recognize Wink’s
vocalizations anywhere. “Wink! Oh, Wink! Is it really you?” Otto felt just a
little silly, but that feeling was greatly overshadowed by his eagerness to
continue the experience.
“Wink, Wink, come here girl.”
Silence once again pounded on Otto’s ears. No answer. The
wind faded away. Otto’s tears welled up, as he decided these tricks of the late
hour and the wind fooled him into thinking this breaking morning might be the
best day of his life. He bent his knees hugging them to his chest, and let his
head sink onto his arms.
“Otto, is that you?”
Again, the girl’s voice.
Comments
Post a Comment