The Hunt (1997)

From my other site

Disjointed Fiction

A short piece from a writing workshop


I lay silently beside my cover.

Waiting.

Watching.

Thinking of the ground, and becoming one with it.

There it was. My prey. Lying there motionless. Yellow and blue on the tan ground. Mocking me with its calm presence.

I felt myself preparing. Legs bunched under me, ears flat, eyes wide, muscles tensed.

In a flurry of motion it was over. I was on it feeling my claws sinking into its soft flesh. I held it still as I rolled onto my side. I brought my legs to the thing, rapid motions as my claws shredded the creature’s back. My teeth sank into its front as my tail lashed wildly. Oh, this was the life! The thrill of the hunt and the kill!

Wait.

There was a sound.

With a startled, “Yaolp!”, I leapt across the room and scrambled to my perch, far above…

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