Something Dramatic

Hello, hello, hello!

So, I was working on a writing project this last week with my husband peeking over my shoulder, and I turned to him and said, "It's just ... SO DRAMATIC!!!"  To which he replied, "It's supposed to be dramatic!!! Seriously, sometimes you're a little too technical with your writing."

He's got a good point.  I am a scientist.  I've been known to be a little ... harsh ... when the science in a story is off. 

BUT ... that's one of my favorite parts about writing.  It's okay to be Dramatic (Capital intended!). It's great to be poetic!  We are storytellers, after all!

So, for this week's prompt, choose the first animal you see (be it a stuffed animal near your computer, a deer out your window, your cat snoozing on your keyboard, or if all else fails, open an encyclopedia) and write something Dramatic about that animal.

Enjoy!

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She crouched in the hay, stray pieces sticking uncomfortably into her bare legs and arms.  The moon, wide as the sky itself, shone in through the lone window above the loft, illuminating a path to the door.  If she could get to the light, she would survive.

A rustling in the rafters reminded her that she was not alone.  Though the animals had been herded out into pastures and corrals to feed on the sweet, spring grass, one animal would not be herded.  One remained.  And that one wanted blood.

She moved.  The river of light was only a few body-lengths away.  She thirsted for the light like a drowning man for air, but her legs, driven though they were by terror, failed to propel her body swiftly enough. 

The creature moved soundlessly, but she could feel it, as if it were connected to her own soul, some terrible demon sent to torment her alone.  It came quickly, and no one could stop it's flight.

A cry split the night.  Savage claws pierced the flesh of her scalp, her straw-mussed hair providing no protection.  Blood rose and spilled down her face.

A figure stood in the moonlight ahead, her savior, and she ran towards him, praying aloud to him to spare her life.

A laugh sounded in the night, one so jolly and carefree as to break the spell, and she found herself slowing even before reaching the safe shelter of her father's arms.

"Did you fall asleep in the hay again, Sunshine?  Is that mean old owl after you again?"