Sarah Wilcox
Bio
Momma šŗ of two feral girls!
Poet.
Artist.
Wildfire.
Stories (17)
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03/17/23
Stumbling over fallen branches I make my way deeper into the forest. The growth is thick and thorns tear through my sleeves, in this moment I am grateful for my black jeans and cowboy boots. Itās the middle of the night, not sure if itās July 12 or 13th yet but I know it has to be getting close. Itās so dark I canāt find the moons glow anywhere. Something to my right catches my attention so I change direction, a faint glow in the distance. I push through the dense trees and am suddenly in an open patch of mushrooms. Blinking; my eyes trying to adjust. It takes a minute to sink in. They are glowing. With the moon hidden I know it is not an iridescent reflection. The mushrooms are the glowing light source. A diluted pale purple that seems to have a flittering rhythm. Their pulse maybe? As I carefully walk forward to the center of the opening a low growl emerges from the tree line in front of me. Fear courses through my veins as the blackness takes shape. A wolf bigger than I thought was possible lurks slowly towards me. Each step with intention, our eyes locked. Somehow the fear had vanished and I was left with only wonder. The grace and beauty of this wolf left me in awe. The depth in its crystal blue-gray eyes have me drowning. Instinct of another way took over me as I sat down. My eyes closed as I reached my hand out towards the approaching wolf. An eternity seemed to pass when I felt a soft warm rush of air upon my palm, taking in my scent. An eerily calm and deep voice vibrates into my being;
By Sarah Wilcox2 years ago in Chapters
7/25/22
Some days I regret this decision to be here. To watch it all crumble instead of holding it all together or even running away. I just donāt think any amount of miles would be far enough. So I sit here at ground zero. A hole where my heart should be, it swirls and shifts with the passing breeze.
By Sarah Wilcox3 years ago in Confessions
