The She Wolf: A Novella By

By T. L. Needham

A Mind-Expanding Novella By Award-Winning Author T. L. Needham. A tale of a young man whose dog chases a wolf into the woods. As he pursues his beloved dog into the woods, he discovers a world beyond this realm and reality. INTRODUCTION: There is a time, just after sundown, when the full moon rises in direct opposition to the setting sun. A time before the sunlight surrenders to the darkness . . . and the full moon’s glow asserts it’s will against the dark . . . and the sky is no longer blue, but not yet black . . . and hovers in an electric glow of deep indigo. But only on the most rare of nights, the night of the Blue Moon, the Indigo Blue Moon. During this time, deep in the woods, there is a realm where we are no longer here . . . we are there. We can find ourselves in a space between day and night, between light and dark, between today and tomorrow . . . between this realm and another. And, perhaps in that time, and that place, we will come upon those who are not from here . . . but from there.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Jul 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781478737704

T. L. Needham

T. L. Needham is an award-winning author and a native of Kansas City. His historic memoir, When I Was a Child, was a finalist in the USA Book News, Best Books Award. It received a bronze medal from Readers Favorite, and a gold medal from Global eBook Awards; the book’s cover was awarded an honorable mention. Needham’s poetry collection, Pesky Poems, was awarded a silver medal by Readers Favorite, and his children’s Christmas story poem, Kitty Claus, won a gold medal from Readers Favorite. Needham authored Winning and Keeping Relocation Business in 1986. He also founded and wrote for Relocation/Realty UPDATE news magazine during the 1980s and 90s, and was publisher of Kansas City Parent magazine. Needham was a national speaker and trainer on corporate relocation and real estate issues during the 1980s and 1990s. He lives in Illinois.

Book preview

PART I

They have been gone a long time. Really. Too long. Way too long. I bet they are eating dinner someplace without me. I am hungry, cold, and alone, except for my kid sister, little Skye, who is four years younger than myself. Plus my dog, Chase, Right boy? I gave him a rub on his furry head.

Chase, my dog, was named Chase because when he was just a puppy, all he wanted to do was chase things. He chased cars, kids on bikes, skateboards or roller skates, and even the chickens at Grandpa’s house. That got him in lots of trouble too.

My name is Teddy Bredwell and I am 14-years old. My Dad told me, You stay here and keep an eye on your dog and sister while we get the last load.

So here we sit on the front porch of our new home in the suburbs on moving day. Feels more like the wilderness to me. Directly across the road is a cornfield that stretches to the horizon. Our new home is on a corner lot and across the road to the south is an old dairy farm. Huge old trees surround the dairy farm house. There is an old red barn and outbuildings. There are cows, lots of black and white cows. More cows than you could even count . . . if you ever got bored enough to count cows, that is.

Behind our home and toward the north are more new homes. But ours is the last house in the subdivision. Here we are, at the very edge of civilization, and on the threshold of wilderness—the frontier, just like in the pioneer movies. I miss our old house in the city.

Skye was so bored she began to whine, Teddy, when are they coming back for us? I miss our old home already. Why did we have to move?

I miss our old house too sis. But, it was foreclosed on by the lender, remember? Mom and Dad explained that to us. Dad was out of work for over a year. He ran out of money and could not make the payments. He was able to rent this house from the builder. I guess because the builder could not sell this home either. These are tough times for Mom and Dad, and builders too. Let me see if I can find something for you to do.

So, I went into the garage and found a box with some sidewalk chalk inside. I gave it to Skye and she got busy drawing a hopscotch layout on the driveway. That got her mind off our long wait for our parents.

Plus, I’ve got my Chase, right boy? Another furry head rub, which Chase responded to by moving his tail back and forth a little, but nothing else. Chase was a chow dog, mostly, but not a pure bred. I got him when I was four and always loved him. He looks like a small lion, rusty-orange color, thick woolly shoulders, with the same regal attitude. Strangers, man, beast, or common dog—whatever, they always had to reckon with Chase if they set foot upon our property, not to mention the entire block where we lived in town. Every dog in the area took a wide path around our house out of respect for Chase. And cats? Well, you never saw them whenever Chase was around.

But poor old Chase had not moved a muscle for hours. He just lay at my feet on the sidewalk in front of the porch steps of our new home. He was probably hungry and as bored as Skye and myself. Where are they? I wonder how many cows there are in that field?

Skye had gotten tired and bored with her hopscotch game as the sun set and darkness began. She went into the house and fell asleep on the sofa.

The sun had just set and it was getting colder by the minute, with darkness filling the sky to the east over the cornfield. A full moon was just beginning to rise above the horizon. Dad told me to keep Chase chained up so he wouldn’t run off and get lost. But, I didn’t think Chase would run away. Besides, if he did, I would just whistle and he would come back like a rocket. Chase always came when I whistled.

Just then, Chase's ears perked up. He lifted his head suddenly and listened eagerly. What is it Chase? Do you hear something? Can you see the folks coming, finally?

Chase stood up abruptly and did a quick pivot to point himself southwest, the opposite direction from which I was watching for my folks’ old Ford to come down the road with the final load. He had gone from a sleepy snooze to vigilant within an instant. He stared intensely to the southwest, across the pasture and towards the dark woods it bordered. Chase was on full alert.

Startled, and curious, I looked in the same direction. What was bothering Chase? Then I saw it. The silhouette was unmistakable against the golden glow of sunset. There was another dog at the edge of the pasture, a big dog . . . a really BIG dog. It had just emerged from the darkness of the woods. This creature walked across the pasture up to the highest ground. Its dark silhouette was in clear view against the sunset.

Chase began to tremble, or shiver; not sure which . . . but I could see his muscles tense and the fur on his neck and shoulders stand straight up. He was being challenged by this invader for dominance of his new territory. His thick leather collar had brass studs polished from years of rubbing against his fur. I took a firm grip on it in anticipation of Chase’s next move. I stoked his head and back, to calm him, whispering, Easy Chase, settle down boy. Agitated, he growled, pulling at my grip on his collar.

Then I realized, this was not just another big dog, but something wild, out of the woods. It was hunting—and noticed us too. It stopped and stood still, staring directly at Chase and me. Chase cowered, for just a moment, and whimpered. Then he began a furious barking barrage, lifting on his hind legs, clawing at the air with his front paws, and pulling at my grip on his collar.

The creature answered Chase’s barking challenge with a long haunting howl . . . a terrible sound. It filled my heart with dread. I realized in a horrible instant that this creature was a wolf. A hungry wolf, no doubt, and nothing stood between its hunger and me, or Skye, except Chase. Who was barely half the size of this wolf, and now in full rage and ready to attack.

Another mournful howl was heard as the wolf asserted his presence upon us. When Chase heard the second howl, he lunged with such fury that he broke free of my grip. He charged full speed across the pasture, cows scattering pell-mell, mooing in protest.

Chase ran rapidly, in total silence, a deadly orange torpedo aimed at its prey. Chase would not shrink from any challenge, not even a wild wolf.

As Chase closed in, charging the wolf, it stood still, defiant and fearless. Then, seconds before Chase exploded into the hulking black wolf; it turned and sprinted into the woods. Chase charged on after the wolf, into the woods too, and then disappeared in the darkness.

Panic, fear and dread filled my heart, but not for me, for Chase. Had he been baited by this lone wolf to rush into the woods? There, to be set upon by a pack of hungry wolves. A chill shot up my spine at the thought of so sudden a death for my brave dog. Tears filled my eyes as I ran across the road calling after Chase. I stopped at the fence to whistle as loud as I could for Chase to come home. I cupped my hands over my mouth and whistled louder. I called out, Chase, CHASE! Come home Chase! Chase always heard my whistle. He always came