Oral Traditions
What happens in the woods, stays passed down through the generations.
My breath was racing as I tore down through the woods I called home. My rifle was slung over my back and I could hear the steps of the pack gaining on me. The cut on my leg was oozing dark blood but I couldn't feel the pain through the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Just a little farther and I'd reach the cabin. I just didn't know if I could make it. Man is no competition for starving wolves. I didn't have enough bullets to take them all on. Plus, I respected their livelihoods more than that. If I had prey to feed them I would give it up in a heartbeat. But I knew at that moment, I was fixing to be their next meal.
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About the Creator
Ashley Lima
I think about writing more than I write, but call myself a writer as opposed to a thinker.
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How Things Change
The seagulls sounded off from the pink skies above. The bench beneath my legs was cold and damp from the brisk dewy morning. I didn’t mind. The waves whispered gentle tunes as they carefully battered the rocky sand on the beachfront. As I sipped at the mug of hot coffee between my fingers, I realized how wrinkly they had become for the first time. They reminded me of my grandmother.
By Ashley LimaExclusive • 4 years ago
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