The Night Market

The grinning moon has taken control of the sky. A young grey Wolf looks over the "Seaport," drowning in mist as he has lost his way home. A smell no, not just that, a commotion too? The young grey Wolf follows his senses as it races towards a large wooden gate and as if the moon is whispering to him, he reads "The Market.: Suddenly an Antelope asks him if he needs help, and the Wolf hesitantly answers him as the Antelope uncovers his hands with inly seven fingers left. Fear Shock Hunger surge through the Wolf's body as the Antelope begins naming prices of his fingers for the Wolf to consume. The Wolf is lost in a daze; he's never consumed another animal, yet here's his opportunity. "The Finger Seller" pushes him again and again, his pinky worth less than his index finger, the Wolf starts to salivate. His body brimming with hunger and his mind flooding with hatred for himself, it becomes overwhelming. Teeth are show, his mouth gaging open, saliva dripping down his chin. He chomps his mouth down, the Antelope looks up, he still has all his seven fingers and then sees the young grey Wolf sprinting into "The Market." The young grey Wolf has found himself in the center of The Market Everything is bustling. There's every single type of carnivorous present under the glow of the moon. Almost as if moving like moths attracted to light, merchants' stand with stronger scents draw in more people. To his right he sees a stand being flooded as new rabbit hide is being put up. To his left, he begins to hear a voice call out to him a merchant. He begins a rapid-fire sales pitch, words come tumbling out, enticing and enchanting market-goers as they pass by. Louder and louder, the voices of the merchants grow into a singular chorus until he turns around to the Merchant. Much grander than these past merchants, it becomes overwhelming, he can feel his heart, solid thuds resounding in his chest. The Wolf is swept away by the crowd of carnivores flooding the stand. Stranded in the middle of the market, he notices four tiger merchants switch their attention the young, stumbling Wolf. They're a rambunctious bunch, but they move in chaotic symbiosis, calculatingly off-beat as they sway toward the wide-eyed Wolf. From behind one tiger's back, a loosely wrapped cloth appears in his paw. The Wolf inhales. The stench of a lamb. The Merchants push it onto him once, then again, and on the third beat, the young grey Wolf falls into his temptations. As the Wolf leaves The Market, he hears the tigers fade into the distance as they sell to another customer. He finds himself back where he started, the "Seaport," with the moon grinning above him like a devilish cat. In his left hand, he grips a bloodied muslin cloth. As the mist parts in the horizon, he makes out the faint glow of dawn. Somewhere in his mind, he remembers yearning for home. Yet he stands rooted, as the silence and the hollowness of the disappearing Night Market consume him