Hi everyone this is something I wrote for a drabble challenge and never got around to posting it. I know they canceled Tarzan but I still loved the series and I liked this little thing I wrote so read it and tell me what you think.
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Tarzan nor its characters but the plot is mine, so enjoy and God bless.
The Sun beat heavily down upon John's exposed forearms and shoulders. He didn't like going out during the day; it wasn't safe. The shadows fled; there was nowhere to hide. The cool appealing shadows disappeared leaving nothing but the merciless heart and blinding rays. No, he defiantly did not like going out in the day. But he had heard a scream, well it was more of a wail, and crying sound, there had been one howling, piercing scream and then a chorus of incessant bawling. Down in the distance, in an alley near his window. He had been laying by the window immersed in the plants and greenery of his room. Hiding among the wild plants and even wilder thoughts. Gazing listlessly at the hazy blue sky, the clouds slowly passing him by. The calm was so still, like the intense heat that would come to the jungle right before it rained. It was so hot movement was inconceivable, so peace ruled the jungle. A calm so thick and deep you swam in it. The scream had shattered the serenity, broken the peace. As soft as it was he has still heard it loud and clear. The pain, and fear it contained was conveyed to him, arousing his knee hunting impulses. With out a second thought John leapt from the window in the direction of the sound. The wailing continued, pitiful and heart retching. Like the sound on of some lost animal; alone and afraid in an unfamiliar and unwelcoming place. John had knew the feeling well, to well. He continued on. John saw a women walk by. She had a look of great pain and grief etched on her fair face. So much so she didn't even notice John's immodest appearance, or his brutally handsome face. She was completely lost somewhere deep in the world of her own loathing and self-pity. She walked mindlessly out of the ally and onto the street. The wailing and crying grew louder. John began to wonder how that woman could not hear it? It penetrated deep into John's very soul. The pain and venerability that cry released. John new he had better hearing then most but even then a person would have to be stone deaf or rather stone hearted to ignore that pitiful cry for help. John ventured deeper into the ally. Garbage and other refuse littered it windswept and wild, like the women's gold blonde hair. John's sharp eyes scanned the vicinity of the dirty, dank ally. He looked in the direction on the wailing. A stray dog sat beside a pile of rags. Seeing John the mutt stood and flashed its teeth, growling brazenly. Threatening John, daring him to come closer. John lowered his eyes, stretched out his hand and muttered some soothing words to the dog. He stood waiting, holding his breath and maintaining composure. The dog sniffed his hand then licked it approvingly.
John smiled and bent down. He shifted the rags; two brilliant brown eyes appeared. The wailing ceased and those little eyes danced with exuberance. John removed the blanket and looked down, puzzled then shocked. Shacking his head John picked up the baby and headed for home.