Beyond the distant shadow, glowing eyes appraised the depleted forest for its last remaining morsel. From the hollows of a sunken countenance, piercing orbs collected every detail of the night. Though Prey could not see the Beast, it sensed the monster. The shadows felt colder and hungrier, as they crept across the ground and curled about prey’s unreliable feet. With each finger of darkness stretched and hopeful to stumble, now, more than ever, steps must be true , the beast was reaching out for him.
The call of a hooting owl told all of the Prey in hiding. The winged hunter demanded the trees deliver its message of betrayal and pass the echo from one limb to another. The treachery hurried through the branches in shrinking urgency.
A shift from hand to paw, a snapped twig beneath the damp, moldering leaves crunched as the beast readied to pounce. The owl warned also of the Beast, for it had yet to choose a side. Send it along; pass it along, all alert. Prey took heed, panic and fear swelled in its heart. Beast took heed, hunger and desire hollowed its gut.
Settle and still, was the remedy wished for by Prey. The hiss of a primordial whisper, a dull and dying ember in a dark overlooked corner of the quarry’s soul, caught breath and glowed dimly. The urge to flee in frenzied terror, suddenly quelled by uncertain and untested teachings, born of an untrusted mentor, forgotten to time.
Settle and still was the cure! Prey tested the medicine with the tip of its fear, dipping only the whetted end. The dose seemed tepid and weak, yet the taste familiar. Settle and still, the beast will fade. The prey brought the full measure to trembling, fright sickened lips, and drank deeply, settle and still….and up popped its pinky, the signal of the submissive. The ‘Emily Post’, once the proud flag of gentlemen, now the kiss of death to masculinity and fabricated courage.
Low sniggers were scattered throughout the forest. The trees passed along what they could. Prey succumbed to shame, delivered unto death by a social stigmata committed only metaphorically.
I wouldn't know the forest for the trees, but I think I got the point of your story. The beast was fear of failure at a party and the prey was some idiot with bad manners.
If I'm wrong don't blame me. I've never read Emily Post, although I've had a few young ladies try to beat it into me. ;-)
3 WAY MIRROR is about a lost identity as experienced by a twenty-eight-year old who thinks he's Charles Randall, until strange events suggest otherwise.
This is the trade paperback edition of the mythopoeic paranormal novel recounting the attempts of one Danny Blue and his friends to come to terms with a series of unusual events in his life. A Kindle eBook edition is also available.
Beyond the distant shadow, glowing eyes appraised the depleted forest for its last remaining morsel. From the hollows of a sunken countenance, piercing orbs collected every detail of the night. Though Prey could not see the Beast, it sensed the monster. The shadows felt colder and hungrier, as they crept across the ground and curled about prey’s unreliable feet. With each finger of darkness stretched and hopeful to stumble, now, more than ever, steps must be true , the beast was reaching out for him.
