Writers

Bloc

When Beauty is the Beast

by Hilary Metzger

I close my eyes against the pain. Waiting for the familiar smell. There she stands, swaying back and fourth, the walls pounding as she blasts her stereo. So different, we’re so different. I stand here outside her window. She’s in there. I’m out here the twilight breeze caressing my hair. Beads of sweat drip on my forehead. “I won’t turn around,” I tell myself. I know what will happen. So strange to see her outside the theater. Although she still has scowl on her face. The one that makes me smirk. Must not turn around. But even as I think it, my face turns upward. There it is like an illuminated pearl. I see it. And then it comes the bones crunch as my legs shorten. "Just a few more seconds!" But as I look I n the reflection of her window a wolf stares back at me. Her head snaps upward. And for a brief second our eyes meet. Then I run, my four legs pounding the Earth as I go.