Dinner is Served
by Ellen Chornoboy
Rustling in the darkness. Wind moving through the night. Something clicks on, embracing the bush. All noise comes to a stop once again. Decisions. Fight or flight. Choose or die? The flickering catching movement from the bush. Blood rushing through the veins. Adrenaline rushing through the body. Sound of the leaves overpowering. Growls echoing in distance, signifying dinner time.
Run. Run. Night enveloping all activity as the chase continues. The predator becomes the prey. There are no places to hide. There is no time to die. All signs of noise switches to silence. Everything comes to a pause. Suspense is in the air. A chill distancing the game of cat and mouse.
Before lightning, comes thunder. Before the prey is caught, the predator pounces. Not missing a beat, the predator swiftly jumps in the air, targeting the prey. A leap before landing on the prey. A strike and lights out. Target acquired as dinner is served.
Originally published in Spring 2020, Volume 1, Issue 3