A comfort in the morning.

Foolish boy. He looked down, his legs swaying across the side of the wall he sat on. He kicked the tin sheet to his right with a loud shimmering bang. Once, twice, and again, waiting a few seconds each time. “Here I am,” he thought and breathed deeply. “It’s not that I’m bored; but I’d like there to be more, just a bit more.” He gave the sheet one last kick and jumped off the wall, rubbing off his stained hands and staining his white t-shirt in the process. He walked through  an industrial yard, through passages between tall cement buildings and past locked gates. There were puddles on the ground, but he didn’t step in them. Not because he disliked the wet, but because when one’s shoes are wet, they make an awful squeaking noise.

Suddenly, from behind a corner that he never noticed, there came a loud bellow. It was like the bark of an angry dog, but as wicked as a crocodile’s hiss. Then came the thudding of huge feet. Not much later he saw it: A huge form- it was some kind of a beast. It had hair all over. And when I say all over I mean that the beast was almost entirely made of hair. There were some longer patches and others that barely hid the its dark, hard muscles. Hair covered its eyes and nose, but a wide, parted mouth was bare and dripping with foam.

As the boy turned to run, he heard a light chuckle and felt a breeze blow over his neck and ruffle his hair. “You asked for it.” The voice whispered.