Thousands of free stories. Support your favorites when you're ready.
Showing stories tagged with #predator-prey Clear filter
#beginningline. #nightdwellers. Stepping into the unknown,. I struck my way through the vines that were overgrown,. Rising fog blanketed the barren ground,. The air was clear creating echoed sound,.
I fall into sweet sin. Over and over again. Praying its the last time. But you know it's not. So we play this game. Of hide and seek. Cat and mouse. Master and slave. Owner and pet. You own me whole.
Date Added: 2013-01-13. Please leave feedback using form at the end of the story. Intro: Who is being played with here. Trying to decide whether to extend this very short short story.
Dressed to impress. But she's all on her own. He follows from a distance. On the path to her home. He moves a little closer. As she moves through the dark. Unavoidable shadows.
#acrostic. M onsters are lurking, always there. Y ou want to move closer, I wouldn't dare. S omething about the way you looked tonight. T eeth chattering, you brought them fright.
(Completely free write). A cat and a mouse sit for supper one day. They have a wonderful time. Before the cat turns to say. "You know that I have to". "I'm sorry it's true". "I simply just have to".
The whitewing bat. Is the size of a fifty cent. Piece. Give or take a millimeter. It flies in front. Of the full moon. Hiding. Waiting for a stray moth. To flitter into its path. On the new moon.
#onyxheartcontest1 Moonlight beam, Sunlight sheen, Raindrops changed the mood.
Life, I can taste, drinking Milk, drunk lazily, In a field, one day, Is spilt, in a drop, On grass, which stays 'til night, 'til darkness falls, And a mouse, from a nest Crawls, out of his...
His blackened eyes spoke to me, alluring me towards the trap, melting me like butter, leaving me defenceless.
Day 6 (POV) Im burning inside with rage to what that filth did MY creature. How DARE THEY hurt her. After all the warnings I gave them and demonstrations of my strength and control over her.
A print in the snow. The hunters first clue. The hunters first clue,. To hunting down you. A print in the snow. Quite big and quite fresh. The hunters first clue. That led into the this mess.
#beginingline #nightdwellers Unaware of what lurked in the darkness Avery set out with her husband's shotgun. She had never been on a hunt before, it was strictly forbidden.
#beginningline From behind the clouds and out of sight, the cylinder appeared. Except, it wasn't really a cylinder, more of a hollow tube. A hollow tube, with ridges.
A moth drawn to the flame, A flicker in the dark, A heady combination, A teasing, taunting spark.
#opussweeklychallenge The spider smiled as the flies used her web as a ballroom, dancing a waltz and lost in the world they created to pretend they weren't her captives, now and forever.
I'm in the mood about writing about a bunny called Babbity :) So, here goes: There was once a rabbit family, Their colours were, grey, brown and white, And one day a fox came lurking, And gave the...
I stepped into the room. It was full of impending doom. The wolves watched me. Licking their lips, the vampires did too. There was nothing I could do. There was a look in their eyes as if they knew.
- An extract from 'Storm', a story I'm currently publishing on Wattpad. - I sauntered into the bar like I owned the joint. It was standard procedure really...
Road side Murders always tend to start the same way. Take this for example... There's a vulnerable looking girl on the side of the road walking. She's clutching her arms close because she's cold.
Chapter 5 (Edited) "Are you stalking me?" he asked. "Maybe." she replied with a small shrug. Her hand lingered on the door. "Are you going home?" Pierce nodded, shoving his hands in his...
His feet padded against the sparkling snow. His coal eyes were locked onto her. The air around her appealed to him, the smell brought him closer, and he licked his lips.
"There's a message in there somewhere", said the spider to the fly. He always liked a chat before he ate. "Don't be sad now fella, it's a shame to see you cry. Who are we to judge the hand of fate?".
On the swing The wind blows. On it sits a little girl. The park seems empty From all but her. The only sound Is the whistle screech Of the playing dead. Going round And Round On the roundabout.