Where the Wild Things Still Are

by Cati-dono

Just a little tribute piece I wrote in memory of Maurice Sendak, author of Where the Wild Things Are. His books were a huge part of my childhood.

The Wild Things ran to the shore and looked out across the sea.

There was a boat coming, a boat that had sailed through night and day, in and out of weeks, and almost over a year. They knew this boat, and they waited by the shore eagerly.

They roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws to show how much they had missed Max, but the man who climbed out of the boat was not Max.

"It's been a very long journey indeed," the man sighed. "But now I am here at last." A small dog with shaggy fur leapt out of the boat to stand beside him.

All the Wild Things circled around them in the most scary way they could. But the man knew the trick of staring into each of their yellow eyes without blinking, and the Wild Things were frightened.

"This is Jennie, and I'm Maurice, the Most Wild Thing of All!" the man announced proudly.

And the Wild Rumpus started again.

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RIP Maurice Sendak, 10 June 1928 - 8 May 2012