John Smith
The Wolf and The Sheepdog is a Fictional book that graphically depicts the experiences of a police officer working the cold streets in one of Canada's largest cities. Join the author on his journey from a fresh recruit to an experienced street cop as he deals with a vast variety of Policing calls. Feel the emotions that affect the author as he battles through near death situations. Learn the personal dramatic emotions create by dealing with domestic assaults, violence, sexual assault victims and death. The Wolf and The Sheepdog will bring you into a world that the recruiting posters fail to show.
Even as a child running through an imaginary world of good guys verses bad guys, John Smith had a dream of becoming a Police Officer. He had a dream of making a difference and putting bad guys away in jail to keep the streets of his city safe.
Over 10 years of policing some of the toughest streets that a metropolis city has to offer, his dreams have changed. The reality of drug fuelled crime, victims forever scarred and the odour of death have forever changed his dreams. Dreams now boarder on nightmares as the author works his way through a dark valley that is rarely graced by the warming touch of light.
I sit in a soft leather armchair as I hear the muffled laughter of good friends.
The smell of expensive cigars fills the room, trapped in the thin blue haze that fills the air. Occasionally I catch the smooth odor of high-quality aged scotch that is being consumed in crystal glasses.
I lean forward and place a hot flame to the front of a dark cigar.
It has the look and feel of thin leather. The flame dances precariously close to the tip of the cigar. I watch as the heat scars and blackens the exposed tip.
The match burns closer to my fingers as I roll the cigar back and forth, heating the tip to a bright red amber.
I can hear the laughter roll over me in waves as I focus on my cigar. Everything feels so far off in the distance. Muffled sounds echo to me as if I was locked away in a fishbowl.
Pulling away the flame, I draw on the back of the cigar. The bitter taste of earth and leather fills my mouth as the first plume of smoke enters it. I lean back and blow out the smoke. Its warmth rolls around my face and nose as I let it slowly flow from my mouth.
Sinking into the warm leather armchair, I watch the smoke roll up towards the vented ceiling. The strong smoke flows into the air vents drawing the smoke out of the room; I do not know where the smoke goes from here; I just know that the room is always filtering it out.
I feel a slight pinch on my fingers and I look at them to see the match burning even closer to my flesh. I still hold onto it. I wait for the pain, wondering if I can tolerate it. I watch as the flame gets closer and closer to my fingers.
I let the match burn and I can feel the pain singe through my fingers. I can feel the pain but it is a numb, dead pain. I know that I should be feeling much more.
It hurts but I have felt worse, I have felt much worse. I watch as the flame burns out; my flesh and skin extinguishes the flame.
I look over to the ashtray next to me. Reaching out to drop the black match into the heavy glass ashtray, I see that I was being watched. I see the face of a fellow named Leo. He is a good man, slim in build but like his name would state he is strong of heart. He is a lion inside and even though he doesn’t tell anyone of his sorrows or hardships I can tell from his face that he has endured much.
Leo is easy to talk to and is always laughing.
“Forgot that it was burning?” Leo asks as he sees me toss the match.
“Yeah,” I say. Not willing to tell him I held onto it to see if I would feel the pain. My fingertips throb slightly. “I really don’t feel much in those fi ngers since that guy almost bit them off .”
With those words I look at my fingers, stare at the tips that have now healed. Fingernails that have grown back, skin that has regenerated. I can still see a light brown ring where teeth dug into my flesh.
Teeth that ripped and crushed my fingers.
My mind wanders back to the call. I can smell the air, putrid with human stink. I can still feel him under me. The thoughts come back like a rush of wind. As my heart beats I am back in my memories, traveling back into time.
“1423 is out,” I say over my radio as I arrive in a dark alley.
