The Last Rumble of Thunder

Today's flash fiction piece is based on an old Native American saying: An old Native American told his grandson, "My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies & ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, & truth." The boy thought about it, and asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?" The old man quietly replied, "The one you feed!"

Hope you enjoy!

The boy sat by the fire, listening.  Watching.

"Grandfather, why is the sky so violent tonight?"

"The Great Battle has begun, my son."

"What great battle?"

"The one within your soul."  The boy struggled to understand Grandfather's meaning.  At that moment, with the flash of lightning and a hammer of thunder, he contracted into a fetal position on the ground beside the campfire.  Heaving with pain, the boy screamed and wrenched.  Grandfather spoke softly into his ear.

"It is time, Young Warrior, for you to discover your fate."

All became black.  Silence.

The boy was no longer warm and on the ground with his grandfather, but somewhere cold and dark.  His vision more acute.  His hearing more astute.  He felt somehow different.

The ability to speak had left him.  He wandered in the vast cold all alone for an unbeknownst time.  Meandering aimlessly, filling his belly with whatever carcasses he encountered.

During the course of one of his meals, another creature approached him.  Startled, yet almost relieved at the knowedge that he was not alone, he tried to speak out, but could not.  The creature came upon him sniffing and growling; showing its teeth and ready to fight. He was as black as the sky.  His eyes glowed an irridescent red.

The boy stood to protect himself.  Empowered, he felt a low grumble in his belly that rose up to his throat.  His muscles tightened.  His teeth exposed.  He attacked.  The wolf hadn't had time to react when the boy's fangs pierced its flesh and tore at its musculature.  His opponent was dead.  Fatally wounded, he fell as the boy savored the warmth of the blood and tissue.

The flavor was invigorating.  Never before had he dined on the fresh flesh of another.  He enjoyed the taste.  At once, an echo came to him.  He listened for a moment.

Grandfather.

The old man shook the boy and begged for his return.  With the last rumble of thunder, the boy convulsed awake again, shivering.  "What was that, Grandfather?"

"What did  you see, my son?"

"I saw blackness and cold.  I killed a wolf and ate him."

Grandfather sighed.  "You will struggle in your fight.  Your life will be hard and painful.  You must be strong and be very careful to feed Good and remain far from Evil."

The boy had heard of the Battle of the Wolves that raged on in man and now he knew what it would feel like to win.  From that day forward, he was fastidious and grew to be known as The Honorable One.