Scott Neesley

The Curse of Wolf Island Scott Neesley

The man ambled over to the great cottonwood tree, surveying the land. The squirrel barked a high-pitched warning to the man from high above, alerting him to the presence of the wolf. The man was now less than twenty-five feet away from the wolf as his black shoes trampled through the crackling leaves. He knew he needed to cut the man off from his only escape route-the boat, so he waited silently until the man passed by him in the leaves. The patient wolf decided the time was right. He uncoiled in one quick flash, sprung off the ground and landed directly onto the man's long black coat, sending them both tumbling to the ground and back into the leaves. The man's screams pierced the air, and he grabbed at his wounded leg as the wolf retreated backwards. The man dragged his bleeding, now useless leg behind him as he crab-walked backwards on his hands and feet, screaming for help. Suddenly a terrifying thought came to the man --no help was going to come for him on this Wolf Island.