Writing for Fun
June 2017
Out Of The Mist - Maureen Rampersaud
Through the murk that always hung over the lake like the threat of death, an eye opened. The deer grazed peacefully on the bank, thinking of nothing but the taste of the sweet, green grass filling its belly. It's ears twitched at the cracking sounds by a tree, a glance confirmed that it was an elderly, red squirrel consuming a nut.
The watery sun was no longer warming the deer's rump. The mackerel sky was darkening, as it sniffed the air . . . too late.
Out of the mist, the evil had encompassed the deer with lightning speed. The ancient squirrel heard the crunching of bones and slurping of blood, as it retreated into the black cloak of the forest.