Her footsteps left small indents in the road slush, sloshing solid liquid aside. There is only one goal in mind. In the distance, the frost has just melted off the supple leaf, just to the left of a small home. An early blooming in the late of winter. Her hooves dig into the snow making a soft crunch that only she can hear.
Her ears flick back and her head bobbles when she paces herself. She inches closer to the leaf, eager to lip it, to lick it and soon digest it. The soft white spotted tail wiggles, shaking off flakes that are still falling.
She’s gentle about the way her mouth set onto the leaf. Though her pull was mighty and fierce enough to shake the tree. The built up snow that once rested on the branches above plummeted around her and on top of her.
With a slight dip of the head, she throws it back, knocking some of the snow off. The rest of the body vibrates the remainder onto the ground. Leaf still in her mouth. The frost melting on her tongue, increasing the flavor in the cytoplasm. The lower jaw moves in a counter clockwise hack jaw like motion. She senses my presence, turning her head calmly, but abruptly towards me.
I hold my camera steady, adjusting the lens to zoom in just a little closer and fix the minor blur. Her ear flickers and I... click.
About the Creator
Zakariah C. Haggard
Writing poetry and short stories are my preferred genres, not novels, yet. I'm fond of drinking coffee, I enjoy playing video games, reading and watching TV shows/Movies/Anime; especially when characters are falling in love with each other.
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More stories from Zakariah C. Haggard and writers in Fiction and other communities.
1965 Ford Mustang
A gleam arises in the distance to the north-east of my body. The sun slowly creeping its way into the sky showing the trees wiggling in the morning gusts. Though the light illuminates the world and makes it shine, I find that mine has faded. The rust that settled under my paint has left speckles of teal on the forest floor. Some of it has been scattered by the wind and now settles underneath twigs and dead leaves. My lights are foggy, my tires worn, and my innards are torn and leaking fluff. I think one of my handles is loose as well. I have a broken right headlight that has been smashed in by a fallen branch. A dent from the same branch resides concaved above the socket and my mirror that once assisted the people inside me to see, now rests on the forest floor. Though it broke me, it first had been broken.
By Zakariah C. Haggard2 years ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Fantastic writing. Such a captivating story.
This is really good, I can see the entire scene. Great job!