The Dragon and the Wolf by Maria Pizzo I want to believe I met a wolf in my past life. I want to believe he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. In a world with so little, missing genuine love, I want to believe his arms that held me were real. Have you ever been so alone that the walls begin to talk? Buying into lies, philosophizing the woken lonely nights? I want to believe what he told me was true. I want to believe that balance sustains life. Where everything is nothing, and nothing is everything, the absence of all is so much in itself. Have you ever been so wrapped up in someone that you shrink down to nothing? Feeling like your existence has ceased, finding peace in the silence, hoping never to return? I want to believe he was real for my sake and his. Hidden away, menacing face, completely unapproachable, desperate for love. Out of the cloud of delusion, I know the sky is painted and music is artificial. I know...
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.