Jazz Feylynn

“The ink line drawing flowed the cursive journey,created on paper canvas that brought the story to life.”

“Putting on the collar is taking charge of unexpected situations. Keeping humans from taking control from me. To tell hunters that I'm not prey. Not a trophy by wearing the collar. I looked at the circlet again. Looking deeper, I see not subjugation, but a tool of power to control my fate in the world of man that symbolizes my ownership over both my nature spirit and wolf-self.”

“I got a whiff of minty fresh breath. Definitely not, what I'd expect from a wild wolf.”

“That did explain his sucky home life growing up but didn’t excuse the way he treated others. Was there childcare for abused werewolves?”

“I assumed this yoke would encase me as well as any another hobble. Only this one bound the mind.”

“Real women don't love the richest guy in the world they love the guy who can make their world the richest.”

“We feel fighting for dominance actually shows weakness. It's much harder to hold back the wolf than to let it have free rein.”

“Yes, Dad collared me before I was even born. Nevertheless, he made me the one in authority of the collar and myself.”

“Be careful. The conditions are treacherous with mud-sucking tentacles pulling shoes and socks into the murky bottom while smearing grime on those who passed by.”

“I swear it looked like she wanted her words to slither around us and go out the door unheard.”

“This assignment could damn well project all the words across my face and the ink stain my hands a gory mess before I finished it.”

“Fingers you, claws me, crossed hoping Dad sees it that way.”

“Off Spruce, there was a little known trail. A savage gulley wound through acreage of older residential homes that met up with Green Rock Drive. A natural bouquet gust of wind assaulted me. The domestic and native encroached on each other in a battle for dominance at the edges of the cramped path's undergrowth. The tangy scent of wild onion and sagebrush intermingled with the verdant odor of wild geranium, blue flax, columbine and creeping pussytoes. The wild weeds spiced up the encroaching grass turf and the tamed floral honeysuckle vines and lilac bushes.”

“Looking deeper, I see not subjugation, but a tool of power to control my fate in the world of man that symbolizes my ownership over both my nature spirit and wolf-self.”

“Was there childcare for abused werewolves?”

“My eyes hunger to read more books then time allows me to devour.”

“The annihilating strokes slashed across my penned heartfelt words.”

“Her wild race caused the dried-up ferns, thorny plants, and low-hung tree branches—away from the lake—to grab at our clothing in the mad dash over the narrow packed dirt through the trees.”

“Her blue eyes glowed headlight red into my leafy greens. Those eyes were freaky.”

“Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around the twisting tongue.”