The werewolves are out tonight, haunted eyes, mournful cries in the night, I sing with them on rooftops, treetops, cliffs, seagulls dancing around my head, I jump raising arms to fly like them, desperate to be free, “Oh,” I laugh as I remember, “I don’t have any wings, silly.” I plummet… so free and frightening and lonely. The wind whispers reassurance.
The dragons raise their wise heads and swift as laughter dive and catch me in their claws, (I'm only a little upset with them) they cradle me like a child wrapped in gypsy threads laying on cathedral steps, abandoned by all but the stars (they still smile at me). Though they hold no fortune for me, I search them anyway. “What am I searching for?” I ask the gravel pressed against my cheek, they don’t reply.
Creatures hum in the stillness, I can feel their song in my bones, elves enchanting me with melodies I can hardly stand, they bring bitter memories and false hope, I nearly run to them, but there’s a whisper in the bells great chimes that begs me, “Be still.”