Parker

I knew metal poles would be my undoing. I have a truly toxic relation with metal poles. The fissure started when my car backed into one just after I got my driver's license. It continued when I moved into my new apartment complex, into the tiny parking space, and dented the front of my pristine Challenger.

Even with a true nemesis, I push forward in life, but the days seem longer somehow. This day is especially long.

Have you ever had that one day that never seemed to end? The day that drags on forever and you can almost feel it getting worse by the minute. The kind of day that feels like an eternity by eight thirty.

I have been having that day a lot lately. I am restless. The truth is that I have not been sleeping well. I feel like every time I close my eyes, I see visions of vicious creatures that only exist in fairy tales. My friend says that it is a manifestation of my inner turmoil. I say I am just watching too much television. I have actually stopped watching scary movies because I feel like it is finally catching up to me. A larger part of me wonders what it all means.

I am haunted by dreams of gigantic wolves and pale skin.

Elongated claws and sharp, serrated teeth.

The nightmares add to my already chaotic day by ensuring that I do not get a moment's rest. Not a single moment. Not even at my boring desk job.

After spending the bulk of my day trying to concentrate on what my erratic clients are saying to me, I conquer the tedium and the obligatory exhaustion to crawl across the finish line. The day is not without hiccups, but it finally ends with a whimper, though later than I expected.

I lock my computer and retrieve my phone as I slide on my black sweater with the powder blue smiley face emblem on the right pectoral, a mainstay of my company. I sigh to myself as I clean the rest of my desk and head into the hallway. I walk by the cubicles, noticing how bare the office is. The campus of my workplace is large and in the middle of nowhere on the north side of the city. It is eerily quiet, devoid of even the cleaning crew.

As I walk past a few cubicles, I hear someone muttering to themselves and I think to stop. I disregard them and fish my cell phone from my pocket. I quickly find my best friend, Kari, on my phone and start a call. The phone rings twice as I enter the breezeway to the building beside the parking garage. Kari answers just as I am heading into the stairwell to descend to the bottom floor.

"Is it bad that I ordered two pizzas?" Kari asks immediately.

I chuckle at her question. Kari's pregnancy has developed into a full-time dinner with occasional bouts of life centered on it. I have amused at the depths of her hungry. It is not unheard of for her to describe going to get hot wings at nearly two in the morning. I cannot say I have ever left my home that late for anything unless I was already on my way home.

"No," I say, "It's normal that you want food for later."

"I ate them both." Kari says.

I clear my throat to keep from laughing as I open the door to the main hall. I quickly brush past the security desk, muttering a "good night" before heading out into the chilly fall air. A walk across a short street and I entered the now-empty parking garage. It was filled to the brim earlier, but now it seems like a ghost town, another reminder that I work too hard.

"Are you still at work?" Kari asks.

I sigh.

"Yes." I say above a whisper.

The silence on the other end of the phone signifies Kari is holding her tongue about saying something. She believes I work too hard, and she is right. I, for all the excuses I give, agree, but it feels like everyone wants something from me at all times of the day and there is never enough time. I need a vacation.

"So, you're not coming over?" Kari asks.

I chuckle as I make it to the third floor of the parking garage. My mind considers the funniest events and jokes of the day. I decide to throw caution to the wind.

"It's not like there's much pizza left anyway, right?" I say into the phone.

Kari laughs as I approach my car. I fish my keys out of my pocket and unlock my car in anticipation. I climb into my car and immediately turn the ignition, feeling the warm air burst to life, warming my frost-touched face. It feels like someone touches me with the sun.

"I'll come over tomorrow. We can go out and do things." I say.

"Cool. Be careful. Text me when you get home." Kari says.

I agree to her terms and end the call before buckling my seatbelt and pulling out of the space. The drive home is ridiculously long. I am fatigued. Something does not seem right. It is my first sign that something is different. I have felt a sense of dread for days and today feels like the feeling bursting into life. I feel like there is something my mind is trying to remember, something I was not meant to forget.

Parker

When I pull into my apartment complex, I long for the days when I would make it home before dark. The norm for me is getting home after every single person has gotten home and enjoyed themselves in ways I cannot fathom anymore. I remind myself that my job is temporary and a foot in the door. At thirty years old, I have bigger aspirations, but they come secondary to food and shelter.

I pull into the Harper Creek apartment complex and drive to the gate box before entering the same code I enter every day. The thought passes through my brain and I am forced to consider that I may be in a rut. I take a deep breath as the gate creaks open and I drive through, slowly heading to my building. I spot my parking spot but drive around the parking lot to enter the spot from a very specific angle.

My car is wider than the parking spaces, which are separated by metal poles, and my skills at parking cars are subpar. It gives me flashbacks to parallel parking during my driving test. I nearly failed because of it. It doesn't help that the people who park next to me have the same issue. No, they are slightly worse.

And I swear on everything good if the little monster next door hits my car one more time, I am going to take a moment to discipline him in front of his parents.

I stand beside my car as I hear a howl in the distance. The only I wonder about the howl because the only canines in this neighborhood are dogs. The dogs in the complex do not really sound as harsh or as large as the howl that sent a shiver down my spine. Most dogs are smaller, and the bigger dogs are usually trained better and unheard unless you get closer to their apartment. The howl sounds primal, wolf like.

That may need to be fact-checked.. I have rarely heard wolves and when I had heard wolves; they were mostly from the zoo or television. I am by far no expert on animals, but there are no wolves in the city, unless some escaped the zoo. The thought unsettles me because it is not unheard of. Vicious animals prowl the neighborhood regularly, but the idea of a four-legged animal is enough to send me into a full-on panic. The lecherous men in this city are enough.

I decide not to go into the dark walkway. I am just tired and exaggerating what I heard. It has to be a dog.

I am about to head towards the apartment when the thought of climbing the three flights of stairs wears on my mind. I suddenly remember getting a text this morning that stated that my package had arrived. It is a smaller package and I assume they could put it in the box. I would also love to cut my mother off by saying I checked my mailbox.

I reluctantly head down the parking lot and around the corner towards the mail outpost.

I feel watched.

I stop in my tracks and look around to see if anyone is watching through the windows. I shake off the feeling and continue towards the mailbox. I pick up speed as the feeling intensifies. I push my key into the mailbox before it clicks open. I reach inside and pull out a very light package, no doubt the stylish yet affordable Henley I bought online a couple of days ago. I take it in my hands and slam the mailbox shut.

The feeling of being watched feels threatening now. An eerie feeling of someone, or something, behind me creeps up my spine. I am further alerted when I hear what sounds like paw prints stop behind me. I stare at the package now, trying to decide what I need to do. There is a canine of some variety behind me. A low growl catches my attention. I know I may have to run and the thought is scary.

I cannot exactly run in business casual boots.

I take a deep breath and turn to see the largest wolf I have ever had the displeasure of seeing in my entire life. The wolf is as dark as coal with a white patch down its back. Its eyes glow a menacingly blue color. The color should be calming, but on the wolf, they seem frenzied. The wolf is baring its teeth at me as it inches closer.

I know this wolf is not in a playful mood, nor is it particularly docile. I could try to placate him or I could do what a smart person would do.

Or at least this smart person.

I launch the package at the wolf and while he is confused; I take off running towards my apartment. As an African American who watches far too much television, I know not to look back. I also know that I need to watch where I am going and avoid falling. None of this prepares me as I look away for a split second and run right into a metal pole.

My true nemesis.

The pole is sturdy enough to knock me to the side. My body hitting the pavement seems exceptionally harsh when I land on my shoulder. I can hear something pop as the sound of snarling intensifies. The pain in my head feels like fire as the snarling draws closer. A dizzy feeling brings quick flashes of light.

I look over and see that there is a large, loose rock as part of the landscaping. I wait until the snarling is directly beside me before I grab the rock and smash it into the side of the wolf's face. The wolf whines loudly as I push myself onto my elbows. I watch as the wolf recovers. The wolf now has a large gash above its eye and it growls at me with an escalated, ferocious demeanor.

The wolf begins towards me but stops as its ears lift into the air. A slightly larger a grey wolf that appears from nowhere tackles it to the ground. The wolf has sparkling golden eyes and seems just as vicious as the other wolf.

Yet I do not feel the immediate danger from him. It is an odd and disarming feeling.

The wolves fight and tear at each other. I look around, trying to help the grey wolf. I spot a piece of the drainpipe that has fallen apart. Many thanks are given to my apartment complex for being so piss poor these days. It used to be such a good place.

I roll to the pipe and pick it up. I push myself up as the black wolf lopes towards me. With every inch of power left in me, I swing the pipe and it connects with the wolf's head. The wolf rolls across the pavement to a stop, whining in pain.

I hear paws again and turn, the pipe in hand, to see the grey wolf. My head is pounding now and my vision is becoming blurred. I cannot tell if it is because of the pole or if it is the wolf. It is still not safe. I remember the black wolf and turn to see that he has fled. I turn to the other wolf.

I feel like I am going to pass out. With the pipe firmly in my hand, I feel something drip down my forehead. The stray light from the streetlights shows blood is dripping down my face. It is dripping onto my clothes and my shoes. I am not squeamish at the sight of blood, but I feel like more blood is on my clothes than in my body.

"Okay, I think we all got off on the wrong foot! You're a good wolf. Good boy! That other wolf wanted to tear the hair off my chiny-chin-chin. God, I may be delirious. I'm probably going to pass out, so please don't eat my skin and organs while I'm passed out. I think dogs do that to the dead. I'm not dead. Right? Also, if you can keep the other wolf away from me...that'd be cool, too."

The wolf tilts its head at me in confusion.

"You can't understand me. Chances are, if you actually understood me, you wouldn't understand me. It's a common occurrence. Jesus, I'm talking to a wolf."

I watch in silence as the wolf takes a step back and does something that sends shock waves throughout my entire body. It transforms into an enormous man with a chiseled jaw-line and bright blue eyes. Even in human form, he is staring at me with puzzlement.

"Okay, yup, I may have already passed out." I say as I hear the pipe clank on the pavement.

I would say that I am passing out, but I clearly already have. I am having a dream for the ages.