The buzz of a thousand hidden insects filled the air, but that wasn’t the sound Nylee was straining to hear. Her ears flicked in the direction of a rustle of leaves that was entirely too close. Her stripes hid her well against the dappled tree trunk, but even the bio-richness of the jungle couldn’t disguise her smell.
She leapt from her tucked hiding spot, hurtled over an enormous fallen branch, and crashed through the underbrush. Sweat bristled out her fur as she tore through the lush foliage, searching for a suitable tree. If the Ngiri didn’t smell her, it certainly had heard her now.
Spotting a low branch on a wide, gnarled trunk that looked as old as the forest itself, she scrambled up the side. Her claws found purchase in the tiny cracks left by generations of burrowing creatures, and she quickly reached the limb. As she sucked in gulps of air, the Ngiri snuffled to a stop below her. He snorted and let fly a few quills from his prickly coat, but she was too high for them – or his razor sharp teeth – to reach.
“No lunch for you today,” Nylee said. She settled into the crook of the branch and waited for the Ngiri to grow bored and leave. While she recovered her breath, she planned how to get back to The Games.
(Outtake from my short story, The Silent Treatment)
The half-men-half-beast people of Dr. Moreau didn’t take over my real-life, and so I’m back, trying to write today, to submit The Silent Treatment to a contest that’s due. I just realized how Dr. Moreau-ish the setting was, and so today’s posting is some flash fiction fun.
The non-fiction musings will resume tommorrow.
Anyone else out there enamored with flash fiction?