by Emily C. Skaftun
Stinging ears flattened, I peeked through fluffy white forepaws. The before-place had been scary: bright lights and booming voice, predatory eyes and nowhere to hide. Nowhere to hide here either. Nothing to fear?
I met her atop a grassy hill: fur sleek as night, coyly cocked ears, perfect little forepaws, twitching whiskers. She smelled of spring rain.
I loved her.
Before I knew it we had a big furry family. Fresh grass to eat, room to shit, and each other to frolic with: in time I almost forgot the before-place. Almost.
One day a hole appeared above us and a monstrous limb reached through with five toes that looked like carrots but smelled carnivorous: a paw from the before-place.
The paw groped toward us. Spring Rain’s heartbeat galloped, pounding through ribs and fur into my own heart. The sky-paw’s meaty toes poked her and she froze, eyes wide as the hole in the sky. Though she reeked of fear I loved her from whiskers to tail.
I kissed her nose and reared up, close enough to bite the sky-paw. I considered biting it, but knew it was useless: sky-paws were relentless.
Trembling with love and sorrow, I raised my ears.
The paw closed around them and yanked me through the sky-hole; I popped out into light brighter than the sun. Noise assaulted me and I smelled monsters, row after row of them, slapping their hungry paws together as I hung by aching ears.
The booming voice roared, “Ta-da!”
6 comments:
Your imagery here is wonderful, as is your POV.
Nice imagery and use of smells. I like the way we are magically pulled out of the 'magic' world and into the 'mundane' one.
Beginning, middle and end, with a surprise. Great entry.
Excellent twisted perspective with this one.
Poor little bunny. It makes me want to cuddle my bunnies and comfort them, but I don't want to be a sky-paw.
I loved his little happy world before the sky-paw got him.
Way cool!
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