The desires of the flesh are a hungry thing indeed, unless tamed by the spirit. Dorothy wrestled with herself as to what to do? Did she really want to? There would be no going back.
She had been hunting Jack for a while now. Jack had a wife and child. He would have as much to lose as her, if they were caught. She knew he was ready, even if he didn’t admit it to himself. If she offered he would say yes. The hunt had been successful and she had been in control the whole time, slowly leading him down her lonely path.
Dorothy was proud of her figure now. As she worked hard at the spa and the pounds rolled off and muscles tightened up, more guys came around, but Jack had been her target all along.
Even her husband, Jerry, had complimented her, but nothing seemed to get through that workaholic mindset of his. Her home continued being a lonely and passionless palace. She loved her two children, but she had a big empty place they could not fill, and maybe Jack could. So as she threw her stuff in the car and headed towards the spa she knew what was in her mind to do. She craved romance, and Jack was offering.
Many times predator people don’t even know who’s hunting who? Jack would have said he was the hunter and Dorothy the prey. She couldn’t resist his macho charm. But one thing is certain when uncontrolled desire is at the driver’s wheel, no one is thinking clearly, and in the pursuit of what they want, neither may like the total of what they get.
Frank headed out for another night of patrolling his New York City beat, but first his usual stop at the coffee shop to get Rachel. She had been really shaken by the high rise execution she witnessed that night, but between Frank and her daughter, they made sure she had all the support she needed.
Rachel was falling in love with Frank, but he had been in love with her all along. However, that night of the execution had put a fear in her she did not know if she could get past? Her only problem with Frank had become his job! She didn’t know if she could live with knowing every time her husband went to work, he would be facing animals in the night, and he might not come back! This had been eating at her ever since that night, but she could not bring herself to tell him. She was praying hard she would get over it, but so far that fear was holding her kisses at bay. As he let her off at the subway entry, her quick good-bye kiss remained purposely shallow, even though she loved him so much. She didn’t know what she was going to do?
She paused at the steps of the subway and watched his squad car slowly driving away. A cold wind whipped at her neck and face as she stood there watching. Before he was even out of sight she saw his lights come on, heard the siren wail, the car made a sharp turn and he was hitting the gas. Something was happening! And he was on his way. What was he on his way to face this time? He was a hero protecting people like her from the predators in the night. She loved that about him, but hated it too. She said a prayer under her breath and descended into the concrete opening.
Frank hadn’t picked up his partner yet at the precinct, but this was an all-points emergency call. A large gang-fight had just broken out in the midst of Central Park. Innocent people were caught in the crossfire. Other officers would be converging on the park and his partner would catch a ride. He was not far from the site, and one of the first to arrive. Another squad car was already broadside to the park and officers outside the car, using it as a shield and guns pulled.
Frank ran the nose of his car close to their trunk and jumped out to join them. A lady jogger came running out of the dingy lit streets screaming for help. Her leg was bleeding as she struggled to run. Frank managed to leap out and grab her, pulling her behind the car.
“What is your name?” he asked as he assessed her wound. She was so panicked she couldn’t do anything but cry. Two more squad cars came racing in. Soon they would have enough to enter the park, but Frank needed to help this woman. An ambulance would be arriving anytime, but until then, he needed to keep pressure on her leg.
Two more citizens came running out. Neither of them hurt. One was able to give information as to where the fight broke out. Two helicopters began lighting up the area. Riot gear and shields were quickly being handed out. An ambulance arrived and two officers assisted the lady to it. Frank would soon be entering the woods of Central Park.
Rachel’s phone lit up with an alert, warning everyone to stay away from the Park. News stations were already at the scene as close as they could get, broadcasting as much as they could. A shaking began in her body as she rode the subway. This was not the normal shaking, but a fear of knowing Frank was there, and what if?
Thousands of miles away in the Amazon Rain Forest, Yinney was enjoying being home in his 7th Day Tree after his six day voyage through the neighborhood. He fully expected Lu-Lu, or Me-Me, or Jo-Jo, or all three to stop in at any time and he would tell them of his encounters with Capy the capybarra, Kujo the spider monkey, and Bubba the Buddhist howler monkey. He was looking so forward to the fellowship.
High in his tree he heard Jag crying somewhere distant in the jungle. The Jaguar was hungry again, and letting everyone know. How had such a good God designed such a horrible world, he asked himself. Then just as quickly reminded himself, this was not God’s design, this was man’s. Man blamed it on the woman. The woman blamed it on the snake. But God held Adam accountable. He had failed to keep and tend the perfect garden.
In the end, Dorothy would probably blame Jerry. Jerry would say he was just trying to provide what his family deserved. Jack would likely try to blame Dorothy, but that boat really wouldn’t float. The gangsters would likely blame their horrible childhoods, and maybe rightly so, as their parents blamed their horrible childhoods. But who did it first? Yinney decided Adam gets the original blame, but blaming wouldn’t solve anything as the world turns on planet earth. Only the love of God can change a predator’s heart.
I must say Yinney has stolen my heart. Little did I know when I started writing “Yinney the Sloth who needed to Poo”, that I would so enjoy this character and the events that would unfold. This story continues to surprise me on where it is going. Round and round we go, where it lands nobody knows, but this slow-moving sloth is very wise.
Rachel had just witnessed a murder. She was in no physical danger herself, but her mind kept repeating the execution style actions so heartlessly carried out. “How can people do that?” she almost yelled into the phone without realizing.
Filling his lungs as full as he could, he lowered his head and entered the deep. The sunken log lay straight ahead. He saw brightly colored little fish swimming about, and perhaps a poisonous frog or two as he plunged. There were many bright colored creatures in the Amazon, but he was not one of them, the better to blend in.
<The continuing story of Yinney is the property of Don Allen, alias: Grandpa White Feather.>
Path Without End 