Paperhawks Stories

Gone Gone Was the man who swore he loved me. Was the gentleman who held me with kindness. Was the man who never would hurt me. He left me broken and afraid, Left me with a swelling rage That consumed every last atom within my body. Trying to figure out how to deal with this loss, along with everything else thrown at me was difficult. Here's my story.

Wolfhound, brave, wild, powerful. I've always seen the dog as brutal and rouge, someone not to be messed with. My father always told me the wolfhound was kind and soft, it's rippling muscle may make it appear as a killer but don't doubt its mind, it is smart, that is how it takes down the wolf. I looked up to the dog, it was like a guide for me, they always welcomed me to their pack with barks and growls. I was cold, people had told me before that though my hands were warm I am not to be angered or else karma will bite them as hard as a wolf. I do not want to be like that, I want to be soft, kind. But the scars dusting my body and the tales they behold say otherwise. Maybe I will be as the wolfhound is only if I get my redemption. And I know just where to start.