Chanteloup

(Pronounced - Shawn-tay-loop - with a French accent)

Song Of the Wolf

By: @Lymmerik

Chanteloup raised her head slowly; her heart seemed frozen aloft, mere inches from shattering like an icicle hanging precariously from a tree limb; her eyes welled with bitter regret. The pain seemed to great to bear...again. Her dark as night eyes spate a deluge of liquid woe onto the hardwoods with a torrent of anguish; she was startled by the jabber of the droplets as they paddled the floorboards. The deed was done.

The strobe of the lighthouse flooded the window above her and spilled into the arboretum like a searchlight of a rescue craft offshore relentlessly vowing to find survivors of a sunken fishing boat.
Memories of the night were slowly returning; her tears had also, seeking desperately to flush her agony. Chanteloup's hair, matted like that of wet newspapers, was still dripping from the rain. Her nude silhouette, wrapped loosely with her beach towel, glistened like the dew on a fresh cut lawn.


Source

Chanteloup lay on the floor of the arboretum propped up on her elbow, fighting her soul to lift herself up and carry on. Her dread of the sunrise in just two hours left her nearly helpless. She groped at the windowsill with all she could muster to stand. The old Cape Cod style homestead had seen many a hurricane and had fallen into disrepair as a result. The windowsill had been over-painted to the point that Chanteloup's nails loosened paint scrapings from nearly a century of paint as she clawed at it to right herself back upon her feet. But she prevailed.

8 Hours Earlier...

Chanteloup prepared a late dinner for her husband, Thomas, a brilliant Professor of Canine Entomology. He was running late as usual, but that didn't deter her from preparing his favorite meal, rabbit with roasted root vegetables. He was a meat and vegetables man and especially fond of red wines with his meals, so she had picked up a bottle of Chianti Reserva to compliment the dinner.

Thomas was a man of few words, even to Chanteloup. He seemed to captivate her with just the depth of his black eyes. Their understanding of one another came at a cost though; when he did speak, it was profound, like he knew what she was thinking. But she, as much as she pretended to know what he thought, or wanted from her, or even his desire, she knew little of who he really was about to become. Chanteloup sat quietly through the dinner, occasionally making small talk, but the only response she could raise from him was moans of satisfaction.

After dinner, Thomas finally spoke.

"Thank you, simply delicious! I believe I"ll have a brandy and a cigar in the arboretum. There's a Nor'Easter brewing, then perhaps a walk on the beach before midnight, huh?"
"Sounds lovely, I"ll be along shortly, let me tidy up a bit." Chanteloup replied.

Chanteloup stepped out into the arboretum to the pungently sweet smell of cigar smoke. She swirled a warm snifter of brandy between her fingers, cupped it with both hands and placed it to her lips to drink.

"Thomas, does the lighthouse look dim to you tonight?" But of course, there was no answer. "Thomas? Are you in here?"

With each eight second rotation of the lighthouse, a flash of the candlepower of the lighthouse strobes through the arboretum, and clearly, Thomas was not in the room. But there was a musty odor that overshadowed the cigar; the smell of wet dog.
Chanteloup waited for the flicker of the light again to confirm the empty state of the arboretum before returning to the kitchen, perhaps Thomas had gone to bed down their hound.


Nearing midnight, there was still no sign of Thomas. Chanteloup returned to the arboretum with her second snifter of brandy. She peered out of the east window to look up at the moon, it was full tonight, but obscured by thickening clouds and rain.
As another oscillation of the incandescent ray from the tower traversed the arboretum, a flash of adrenaline rushed up Chanteloup's spine, like the quills of a porcupine.
Her pupils dilated impulsively! She lurched back from the window, her snifter of brandy crashing to the hardwood floor and exploded into shards.
Standing there in the rain was Thomas, completely naked. His rippled torso facing her with his arms outstretched toward the sky, beckoning her to him. She was shaking uncontrollably. With each passing full moon since their marriage only five months earlier, she had grown ever more suspect that Thomas was falling deeper into the proverbial rabbit hole.
It always began with unrest about 48 hours before each moon. His demeanor surreptitiously transposed itself from minnow to whale. His lust for her would greatly exceed her ability to satisfy his need.
With another flash from the lighthouse, Thomas appeared to transmute, traversing ever close to the window. One...two...three strobes of the beacon; closer he stepped, then...GONE!

Thomas had vanished into the night. Wolves howled!


Chanteloup nervously backed out of the arboretum, her entire body shivering as if she were herself standing in the rain. She sat on the edge of the piano bench and started to hum an old lullaby from her childhood.

"Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh.
"Je suis une chanson de loup, approche-toi de ma poitrine. pose ta tête fatiguée, rapproche-toi de mon cœur. Ce ne sera pas très long, jusqu'à ce que vous trouviez le repos. car je suis votre chanson de loup. Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh."

Chanteloup hummed and sang this tune over and over. However Thomas did not return; wolves howled once again. She grew weary and found herself with a snifter of brandy. She drank it down, and poured another.

Chanteloup repeatedly hummed the song over and over. Soon she found herself naked in the dunes along on the beach in the driving rain. Still humming, she stayed astutely aware of Thomas' presence just inside the tree line behind her. With each strobe of the lighthouse illuminating the phosphorus in the foam of the waves crashing ashore, she hummed the tune and sang the song louder and more boldly as she neared the ocean's edge. Behind her, a now snorting Thomas began his stalk of her, ever closer. The rain stung her skin.
Chanteloup entered the surf, persistently humming, trying to keep clear of the jagged coralline rocks. She knew what she had to do.

"Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh.
"Je suis une chanson de loup, approche-toi de ma poitrine. pose ta tête fatiguée, rapproche-toi de mon cœur. Ce ne sera pas très long, jusqu'à ce que vous trouviez le repos. car je suis votre chanson de loup. Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh."

Chanteloup held steadfast her nerve while acting as if she were an innocent rabbit, unaware of the danger lurking ever close. She proceeded further into the rough water.
Suddenly, with the ebb of a wave, the sea behind her exploded, Chanteloup turned to see Thomas charging her on all fours. She gasped, but continued unabated.

"Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh.
"Je suis une chanson de loup, approche-toi de ma poitrine. pose ta tête fatiguée, rapproche-toi de mon cœur. Ce ne sera pas très long, jusqu'à ce que vous trouviez le repos. car je suis votre chanson de loup. Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh."


Thomas pounced upon her nakedness knocking her down in the raging waters. He emerged with her from the depth of the sea, pulling her relentlessly toward the dunes by the tree line. She submitted to his desire. Chanteloup became exhausted but found it necessary to give into his repeated lust, all the while humming her childhood lullaby.
At long last, as Thomas stood, she finally was able to break free and ran toward the waters edge once more. But she was unsuccessful in her attempt. Thomas tackled her from behind, but tripped and rolled across the beach. Chanteloup quickly bounced back up onto her feet and disappeared into the woods behind the dune.
Thomas reacted swiftly so as not to lose her scent and loped toward the tree line. Chanteloup stepped out from the shadows with Thomas' crossbow, that she has hidden close by, locked and loaded. Thomas paused for a moment, and in that instant Chanteloup realized his curse. With tears streaming down her chaffed cheeks, still humming, she pulled the trigger. His eyes never left her's. He smiled. His once black eyes were now ice blue; longing for her to un-pull the trigger. But that was impossible, like un-saying a hateful word. It seemed the arrow would glide forever. She longed for his continued embrace, but it had already slipped from her grasp, even before Thomas had slipped on to his eternal journey.
Thomas dropped to his knees, the arrow piercing his heart. The tide would rise, the tide would fall. Chanteloup would never see Thomas this side of the stars again.

Chanteloup dropped the crossbow, turned from the beach and walked back to the house still humming. She never looked back, she knew that if she did, she'd forget his smile.

"Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh.
I am the song of the wolf, come close to my breast. place here your tired head, draw near to my heart. It will not be very long, now, until you find rest. because I am your wolf song. Mmm, mmm, ahh, uh, ahh; mmm, mmm, ahh, ohh, ohh, ahh, ahh."

Chanteloup raised her head slowly; her heart seemed frozen aloft, mere inches from shattering like an icicle hanging precariously from a tree limb; her eyes welled with bitter regret. The pain seemed to great to bear...again. Her dark as night eyes spate a deluge of liquid woe onto the hardwoods with a torrent of anguish; she was startled by the jabber of the droplets as they paddled the floorboards. The deed was done.

*The French translation of Chanteloup's lullaby is very loosely translated. The translation is not exact.

Thank you for reading my ramblings!
@Lymmerik

The title and contents of Chanteloup - Song of the Wolf is the intellectual property of Rickie O. Pauley (@Lymmerik) and may not be replicated, or reproduced in any way without the express permission of its owner, with the exception for ReSteeming. It may be promoted by the organizer of the Steemit-Virus Contest in which it is entered as a contestant.