“I am fierce, I am a hunter,” thought Milo to himself as he crouched low to the ground, staring at the bird a few feet away from him. His tail flicked back and forth as he prepared himself to strike. He could feel the muscles in his hind legs tense as his eyes widened. He stalked ever so slowly toward the bird. The anticipation building inside him, as he could almost feel the bird beneath his claws. “I am fierce, I am a hunter,” he whispered to himself over and over. Finally, he felt the moment to strike come, and he leapt with all his might toward his unsuspecting prey. He landed square on the bird, but instead of his claws sinking into feathers and flesh, he bounced off the bird and landed in the grass.
Confused, he got to his feet and stared at the bird. The bird seemed to stare back at him. He padded around the bird, staring at it, wondering why it did not flee. He swiped at the bird’s face and, much to his surprise, the bird was hard. “What kind of bird is this?” thought Milo as he stared at it. He bit the bird, when he did, instead of the delicious taste of bird, a nasty taste he did not recognize filled his mouth. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The beady eyes of the bird seemed to stare right back at him, daring him to attack it.
Milo was about to take the bait when he felt himself rise off the ground. “How dare this thing interrupt me when I was about to teach this bird a lesson.” He thought to himself. “Silly kitty, that’s not an actual bird.” Said the thing that picked him up. Milo, taken aback by the audacity of the creature. “I am not silly!” he yelled at the top of his lungs “I am a fierce hunter, FEAR ME!” The creature, however, showed no sign of fear, instead it looked rather amused.
It was a strange-looking creature. It had no fur except on its head, had two legs instead of four, and it was very tall. Milo struggled in the creature’s grasp but could not free himself. The creature reached out with what looked like a giant paw and rubbed behind his ears. Milo did not know how to feel about this. One part of him was angry at the creature for daring to touch him. Another part of him was happy because it felt SO GOOD. The joyous part of him won, and he rubbed his head on the creature’s paw. The creature finally let him down and he walked off to find a drink, casting a dirty look at the bird as he padded away.
He walked a short way until he came to a small pond at the base of the hill. The water looked cool and inviting. He bent down next to the edge and drank. The cool water energized him, and he was ready for his next adventure.
When he lifted his head away from the water, he noticed eyes staring at him from under the water. He jumped back, startled, the hair on the back of his neck rising slightly. Repeating his “I am fierce” mantra as he gingerly approached the water.
With all the ferocity he could muster, he swiped at the water. The eyes darted away, and Milo, feeling very proud of himself, stood tall on the edge of the water. The moment, however, was short-lived, for the eyes returned to stare directly at him.
“What are you?” he shouted at the water. The creature broke the surface of the water slightly. It was a strange-looking creature. Its skin was a greenish gray and slimy with dark eyes and two whiskers protruding from the sides of his wide mouth. “What are you?” asked the creature in a raspy voice. “I am a cat, a fierce hunter,” Replied Milo, holding his head up high. “A cat you say?” replied the creature. “I am a catfish.” “A catfish?” asked Milo, “How is that possible?” “I could ask you the same thing.” Replied the catfish.
Confused, Milo looked at the catfish, “How can you be a catfish? You look nothing like me?” The catfish was silent for a moment. “Well,” he said, “How can you be a cat? You look nothing like me?” Milo could feel the irritation welling up inside him. “Stop being so confusing!!” he yelled at the catfish. “I do not mean to confuse.” Said the catfish. “I am merely curious.” “Why don’t you answer my questions, and I will answer yours,” said milo. “Very well.” “Now why are you called a catfish; you don’t look like a cat?” asked Milo, his whiskers twitching inquisitively. “I do not know why I am called a catfish. Perhaps it is my sleek, shiny skin, very graceful, don’t you think?” Milo huffed, wrinkling his nose at the fish. “Not possible. My coat is far more graceful than yours.” “Really? I spend my day in the mud at the bottom of the pond and my coat never loses its shine.”. The catfish stated in a rather confident tone.
Milo wrinkled his nose at this statement. “You spend your whole day in the mud. A cat would never do that, so you can’t possibly be a cat.” Milo told the Catfish as he sat down confidently on his haunches. The Catfish, rather offended by this, looked Milo in the eyes. “Well then, tell me, what do you do that makes you a cat?” he asked rather indignantly. Milo returned his gaze, pride burning in his keen eyes. “I am a fierce hunter. I stalk my unsuspecting prey and strike with great ferocity from the shadows”. “Well now, aren’t we full of ourselves? Tell me, oh fierce hunter, how was I able to sneak up on you?” Asked the Catfish, his tone laced with sarcasm. Milo glared at the rather snarky fish. “I wasn’t hunting you; I was merely getting a drink of water.” He spat back. “I see.” The Catfish said thoughtfully. “You know I don’t think you could catch me if you tried.” He said, sporting his best attempt at a devilish grin. Milo stared hard at the fish. “Of course, I could catch you if I wanted.” He sneered back at the Catfish. “Well then, in that case, come and get me.” replied the Catfish as he swam farther out into the pond. Milo stared at the catfish for a second, a little unsure of what to do. “I am waiting.” Yelled the Catfish rather tauntingly.
Milo, now filled with anger at this snarky fish, crouched down, tensed his back leg muscles, and leapt with all the ferocity he could muster right into the water. As soon as the icy cold water hit his fur, he knew he made a mistake. The cold water sent a shock up and down his spine. Panic immediately surged through him like little tendrils of lightning snaking through him. He paddled furiously, digging his paws through the water, desperately trying to keep his head up. His feet could find no such hold. He called on the strength of all his nine lives to keep him afloat. It did not last long, though, and his strength faded away. His head slipped under the water, and he could feel the water enter his mouth and nose and chase away the life-sustaining breath his tired lungs were so desperately trying to hold on to. As the darkness wrapped its tendrils around him, he felt something solid brush up against him. Moments later, he felt the welcome feeling of solid ground on the pads of his feet. He collapsed on the bank in a wet, defeated, furry heap. To his disgust and relief, a torrent of murky water rushed out of his mouth, and fresh air so sweet filled his lungs once more.
He turned his head and saw the Catfish staring at him, concern in his eyes. “You can’t swim, can you?” asked the Catfish, his voice filled with quiet concern. “I don’t know what that means.” Milo replied, his voice coarse. “It means you can’t move through water.” “No, I can’t, that was terrible.” Milo said, shaking a little at the thought of it. “If you didn’t know if you could swim, why did you jump in the water?” Asked the catfish. “Well, you said I couldn’t catch you, so I had to try.” Milo replied, holding his head up a little. “I see, so you would risk your life in order to prove me wrong. I take it pride is important to you.” said the catfish, understanding in his voice. “Of course, a cat must have his pride.” “That makes sense to a point, but at what point does pride no longer matter?”
Milo was silent for a moment; he searched his mind for an answer. “I don’t know.” He finally said rather sheepishly. “To a catfish, pride is of little importance. It is because of this we have no problem living in the mud in the pond's bottom.” The catfish replied, his voice filled with sincerity. Milo sat there silently, unsure of what to say. “Thank you for saving me.” He said at last, his voice low and tinged with embarrassment. “Of course, I couldn’t watch you drown.” replied the catfish, smiling back at Milo. “What is your name?” asked Milo. “My name is Slick, what is yours?” he replied warmly. “My name is Milo.” He replied, smiling down at the water. “Good to meet you, Milo. I must go now, dinner awaits.” “Farewell Slick, until we meet again.” Milo replied, waving his paw at the water. Slick bowed his head and dipped back under the water. Milo padded away, back up the hill in search of food.
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Decieved
Clara Willoughby lived in a small little village next to an exceptionally large forest, she was a young girl of ten with hair as black as the midnight sky, with bright blue eyes that shined with youthful happiness. She was well known and loved by all the townsfolk. People would say they could always tell where she had been, for the girl would always leave a faint trail of bread flour wherever she went. This never bothered anyone, for Clara worked in the local pie shop that her mother owned, and Clara loved to deliver the fresh baked pies to the local townsfolk. People knew when they saw the faint flour trail, that little Clara was off delivering pies to her waiting customers. People almost stopped coming to pick up their pies, instead they would request that Clara deliver the pies. Her customers would always tell her mother that seeing Clara show up at their door with her huge grin and the happiness in her voice, holding a basket with a hot, delicious pie inside, would immediately brighten their mood especially if they had a bad day. Little Clara loved hearing this from people, her mother thought maybe she loved it a little too much. That was ok though, Clara was still young, and her mother loved seeing her so happy. Clara’s mother, a woman named Charlotte was a kind and gentle soul in her late thirties. She was a tall thin woman; people would always say her, and Clara were mirror images of each other. For Charlotte had the same midnight dark hair, and kind blue eyes. The biggest difference was in their hands and shoulders. Charlotte’s hands were rough and worn from years of work, and her shoulders slumped from years of bending over a worktable making dough. Clara, however, did not suffer from such things, for unlike her mother, Clara was a terrible baker. What Clara was good at though, was shaping and decorating. Watching her work was like watching a skilled painter craft a masterpiece, her paintbrush, a dainty carving knife, her pie crust. Her designs made her mother’s pies the most sought after in the region. One day an old woman came by the shop “hello there I hear you make the best pies in the area” the old women said in kind and friendly voice. “our pies are the best” declared Clara confidently grinning from ear to ear. “Wonderful! I would like to order two pies then do you have apple and blueberry?” the old woman asked. “we do indeed!” replied Clara cheerily. “Perfect! I hear from the townsfolk you deliver the pies as well.” The old women said. “we do indeed, my mother makes the pies and I deliver them!” Clara replied still wearing her huge grin. “Lovely! Can you deliver them to my house tomorrow around noon?” asked the old woman. “of course, where do you live?” Clara asked. The old woman pointed toward the woods. “I live in a little cottage in the woods, just a short little walk.” “oh” replied Clara losing her smile a little “I have never delivered to the woods before, my mother only lets me deliver in town.” “I understand, of course I would be willing to pay extra for it though.” The old woman said pulling a large bag of coins out of her pocket. Clara’s eyes went wide when she saw this. “let me go talk to my mother and ill be right back.” Clara said quickly and then hurried off to the back of the shop. She returned a few minutes later “my mother said its ok.” Clara replied her smile returning. “wonderful!” exclaimed the old women “I will mark the trail for you so you can find my house.” The old woman replied dropping the bag of coins on the counter and walked away. Clara snatched up the coins and ran back and put them in the coin box that they keep in the back room of the shop. Clara could barely sleep that night due to her excitement about going to the woods for the first time in her young life. The next morning came and Clara grabbed the two pies, said goodbye to her mother and went out the door to deliver the pies. She made her way through the winding cobblestone streets of their little town, waving to all those she passed. Upon leaving the town she took off in a run toward the edge of the forest. She stopped for a moment when she reached the edge of the forest. The vastness of it overwhelmed her senses for a moment. Everything was so new, from the tall trees covered in green leaves with branches that look like they can reach out and grab you if they wished. The cool breeze carrying the fresh scent of trees and grass was a new sensation for Clara for smell of baking pies and the various smells of the town were all she knew. Clara thought this smell was the best smell she had ever encountered. She listened to the soothing sound of the wind weaving through the trees rustling the leaves just enough to be heard. She looked all around her for the sign the old woman was supposed to leave her. She almost turned to leave when she spotted it, a red silk ribbon with a note attached to it. She picked up the note and read it. “dear Clara follow the trail of red ribbon until you come to the fallen tree with the wooden archway underneath, then follow the path and you will reach my home. See you soon!” there was a name at the bottom of the note “Elaine” it read. Clara assumed it must be the woman’s name. Clara set off on the path marked by the red ribbons. The sights and sounds of the forest never ceased to amaze Clara as she walked through the woods. She could hear the squirrels chittering in the trees as they raced about. The trees seemed to tower above her, and Clara could not figure out how something could grow so tall. After walking for little while she came across a crystal-clear stream, Clara could see the shiny rocks perfectly at the bottom, a little further down the stream the water flowed over a large rock making a little waterfall which emptied to what looked like a large stone bowl with each stone sticking out just a little farther than the one atop it, so they looked like stairs going down to the bottom of the pool. After walking all that time Clara had worked up quite a thirst. She bent down at the pool and cupped her hands to the water and brought them to her mouth. She did this until the thirst subsided. She was so focused on the water that she failed to hear the large footsteps come up behind her. She felt the hot breath on the back of her neck and froze in her tracks. She slowly turned around clutching the basket with the pies so hard her knuckles were going white. When she turned, she found herself staring into the eyes of an exceptionally large wolf. The wolf was gray with patches of black and white, his head was even with hers, so his eyes looked directly into hers. Clara was still and did not make a sound, not even a small yelp. Her eyes never moved, she was not staring at his powerful looking legs, his long sleek back, his long bushy tail, no it was his eyes she could not look away from. His eyes were not the eyes of a regular wolf, his eyes were completely black. That was not what made them so terrifying though, it was the way they seemed to bore directly into your soul. These were the kind of eyes that you could not hide from or lie to. The wolf was first to break the tension. “where do you think you are going child?” the wolf said in a deep dark and sinister voice. All the color left Clara’s face and she tried to speak but could form no words. “Can you not speak child?” the wolf spoke again in the same tone of voice. “i-i-I c-c-c-an speak” Clara stammered quietly. “good, now let’s try this again shall we, where are you going child” the wolf said never moving his eyes away from hers. “I-I-I am taking these pies to an old woman here in the forest.” The wolfs ears perked up when he heard this, he began to move slowly circling Clara. “An old woman you say, now tell me does this old woman have a name perhaps?” the wolf said as he circled her keeping the same tone of voice. “E-e-elaine I think is her name.” replied Clara shakily. The wolf stopped moving and was silent for a moment. After a few moments he spoke again his voice becoming inquisitive. “Tell me child did this Elaine woman tell you to follow the red silken ribbon to her house perhaps?” “y-yes she did.” Clara replied. “You have been deceived child, this woman is not what you think” the wolf stated beginning to circle her again, his sinister voice returning. Clara was taken aback by the this, this was not what she expected at all. “What do you mean?” she asked the fear in her voice being replaced by confusion. “this woman is not the kind old woman you think she is she is a dark spirit than can take human form and feeds on the souls of unwitting humans.” Said the wolf as he came around to face her again. Clara did not know what to say this, it sounded absolutely insane, those things did not exist. “you are lying that cant possibly be true.” Clara stated staring at the wolf. The wolf stopped circling and leaned in close, so their faces were almost touching. “look into my eyes child, tell me are these the eyes of a liar?” asked the wolf his lips beginning to curl into a snarl. “no” Clara replied her fear returning. The wolf moved his head away keeping his eyes trained on her. “Maybe you are smarter than you look child, now leave these woods and never return.” Said the wolf keeping the same dark tone as before. Clara did not think she just turned and fled running as fast as she could not stopping to look at where she was going. She only stopped when she was about run right into a tree. She sat the pie basket down panting heavily and trying to fight back tears. She was scared and alone in the woods and worst of all no one knew she was here, for she had not told her mother the truth about where she was going. After a moment she composed herself and looked around her, to her surprise she saw the fallen tree with wooden archway underneath it to her left. She walked over to it and upon seeing the red silk ribbon tied to the arch she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She walked through the beautiful white arch marveling at the ornate carvings in the wood. In front of her was a stone path with a strip of green grass growing in a line down the center of the path. On either side of the path was a stone wall about four feet high and covered with vine plants. She walked down the path until she saw the house, it was a quaint little stone cottage with a brown wooden door with a window in the middle with white walls and a roof made of red wooden planks. A stone chimney sat atop the house with gray smoke billowing out of the top. She walked to the door and knocked as loud as she could. The old woman answered the door and smiled at Clara “you made it dear.” She said sweetly. Clara looked up at the woman, in her kind brown eyes and her blond hair with streaks of silver. Clara nodded her head and smiled at the woman. “you must be exhausted dear, please come in and sit down.” The old woman said opening the door all the way and beckoning Clara to come in. Clara entered the house, the wolfs warning completely forgotten. The inside of the house smelled like fresh flowers and springtime. The house looked almost bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. The room the old woman led Clara into must have been her kitchen and living area. In the corner sat a wash basin and wood burning stove, a large wooden table sat in the center of the room, and a sofa sat in the other corner of the room. Clara sat her basket down on the table and sat down hard in one of the chairs around the table. “dear me, you must be tired poor thing.” Said the old women her voice full of concern. “I am a little tired, I ran into a little trouble on the way here.” Replied Clara. “what kind of trouble?” asked the old woman. “I ran into a wolf and he was really scary, and he said some very weird things.” Clara replied. “oh, you poor dear!” cried the woman. “here let me get you something to drink” the old woman went over to the wash basin and grabbed a glass and filled it with water and handed it to Clara. Clara thanked her and drank the water. “Is your name Elaine?” asked Clara. The old woman laughed “why yes, it is, silly me, I must have forgotten to introduce myself.” “I liked the ribbons; they were very pretty.” Said Clara holding one of the ribbons in her hand. “why thank you dear, I always did like the color red.” Replied Elaine. “you may keep that if you like.” Elaine added. “thank you.” Replied Clara. “Miss Elaine, may I have some more water please?” Clara asked. “Of course, dear!” replied Elaine. She filled up the cup again and handed it to Clara. “Thank you, this is really good.” Replied Clara. “I am pleased you like it dear.” Said Elaine cracking a sly smile. “you have had a hard journey, dear, you should rest your eyes.” Said Elaine in a soothing tone of voice. “I am pretty tired, maybe I will rest a little.” Replied Clara her eyelids growing heavy. Clara leaned back in her chair getting more comfortable by the moment. She had no idea she was so tired. sleep began to take hold of her, and her eyes closed. She never felt Elaine pick her up off the chair and carry her to the sofa. Clara was off in her own dream world, laying a peaceful meadow, staring up the clouds moving in the wind. Suddenly Clara heard a loud crash and suddenly she was jerked from her dream world back to the real world. Her eyes snapped open and what she saw left her speechless in horror. Elaine was standing over her, her face inches away from Clara. Her face however was not the one she remembered; it had changed into something from your worst nightmare. Her eyes were milky, white set-in sunken sockets, surrounded by dry ashy looking skin. Her nose was hook shaped and her mouth was twice the size of a normal human. Two rows of razor-sharp pointed teeth and the most terrifying thing to Clara was the eerie blue light at the back of her throat, that seemed to be beckoning Clara to enter. The vision lasted only a moment, for Elaine let out a bloodcurdling screech as a wolf clamped its large jaws down hard on her shoulder. the wolf whipped his head so hard throwing Elaine so hard she crashed through the wall of the cottage. She sat up dazed, blood dripping from cuts all over body. She had no chance to recover though, for the wolf moved like lightning and pounced on her. A moment later the wolf walked back in the cottage panting. Clara stood there frozen in shock, for in front of her stood the wolf she had met earlier. He looked the same as he did earlier except his mouth was dripping with blood and saliva. “I warned you of the old woman’s treachery, child” said the wolf in his same deep dark voice. At this Clara fainted. The wolf left the cabin and went down to a stream nearby and did his best to wash the blood from his lips. He returned to the cabin, where Clara was still passed out on the floor. He picked her up gently in his mouth and carried her away from the cabin and back to the village. By the time the wolf arrived at the edge of the forest, the sun had begun to set. The wolf walked calmly toward the village carrying Clara in his mouth. The townsfolk stopped in their tracks when they saw the wolf carrying Clara. A couple of women began to cry hysterically seeing Clara’s still body in the mouth of the wolf. They made it to the pie shop where Clara’s mother ran out of the shop tears streaming down her face. The wolf gently set Clara down in front of her mother. Charlotte cradled her daughters head in her arms. Clara’s eye slowly opened, causing her mother to cry tears of joy instead of sorrow. “the child will be alright; she just needs rest.” The wolf told Charlotte. “what happened to her!” Charlotte yelled at the wolf. “the child fell prey to the dark spirit of the wood, but what matters now is that the child is alive and safe.” said the wolf. Charlotte looked at the wolf, her brows furrowed, she opened her mouth to speak. The wolf cut her off before she could “I take my leave of you now, good people.” With that he bounded away toward the forest. Charlotte picked Clara up in her arms and carried her inside the shop. She lay her daughter down on her bed. Clara reached her hand out and brushed it against her mother’s face. Charlotte grabbed her hand and held it close. “What happened to you, baby.” She asked Clara. Clara took a deep breath and told her mother everything. After she was done, her mother looked at her with her kind eyes. “I want to be mad at you Clara, but I am too happy your safe to be angry at you.” Clara hugged her mother close, and they cuddled on the bed for the rest of the day.
By Paul Winzenried 5 years ago in Fiction
After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham6 days ago in Fiction
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