friend or fox

so lost i am to fantasy in the eyes of my still yet unseen queen, but, nevertheless i choose to tell you that as i have been writing my story, i have found that it seems to write itself. unfortunately not in order, but never the last chapter. as i am weary of knowing what tomorrow has as i presume to know how it has, some of my artifacts have come to embodiment. not sooner of which was the fox, twice now from a chapter four or five down the line from the next one, which is through the first draft. i normally dont mention these things, in part to avoid being labeled schizophrenic, but more so because it's happened twice now. the odd part is, that in all of life's meditated habits, its never been something that had a life of its own. so to save the early bird from being the worm, when i had seen it the second time, i buttoned down the window in my truck, as i slowed it's pace, and shouted "fox" and to my surprise it stopped and looked back to me from the middle of an atm lot, carved into a wooded property, quite the odd picture perhaps. its the second time that i've seen him or her and i hope that the grey fox lives longer than its hunt. a spirit animal may be mistaken.