12-11-2020, 07:40 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bebas+Neue&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><div align="center"><div style="border-right:#000 2px solid;border-left:#000 2px solid;background:transparent;padding:15px;width:550px;"><div style="width:550px;font-family:Bebas Neue;font-size:24px;text-align:center;line-height:90%;">stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;<br></div><div style="width:550px;padding-bottom:15px;font-family:times new roman; font-size:15px;text-align:center;line-height:100%;text-transform:uppercase;"><i>better not to breathe than to breathe a lie</i></div><div style="font-family:times;font-size:13px;line-height:110%;text-align:justify;">The low rumble of thunder is what pushes me deeper into the thickness of my lair and I make two observations simultaneously: a leopard whose pattern is characteristic of their species and the heat signature of a stranger in the near distance. In all the years I have spent lurking beneath the volcano, no stranger has met me and lived to tell the tale. Children have whispered stories about me, huddled around each other as if the feeling of their closeness will drive me away from the smell of their blood. Any meager resemblance of goodness or humanity rears its head when I see those nervous figures, so their fragile skins remain unblemished by my doing.
This stranger shall not be so lucky. It had been the nudiustertain evening when I had last tasted the sweet, supple meat of a horse. My lengthy stomach grumbles at the thought of two meals in one afternoon; the combination of leopard and equine would certainly carry me into the following cycle of the moon.
Instincts do not seem to treat the leopard well — I hiss with laughter at the thought of the feline thinking <i>he</i> is the largest thing in these forests — and it isn’t long before I am curling into the shadows to wait for the stranger to approach.
He smells unique, different from the ash and sweat and green that is typical of the creatures of this land. Everything within me whispers to jump upon him while he is puzzling over the remains of my meal. Whispers grow into shouting and eventually I cannot help myself. It always feels thrilling to stare deep into the eyes of my prey, to watch the terror darken their eyes and see their eyelids open wider at the sight of my large, pale head. Peeling my jaws from top and bottom, the smooth sensation of my bones unhinging brings a tingle to my scaly skin.
All my years listening to those children has given me the skill of understanding the equine language. Laughter would bubble from my throat if I didn’t have my mouth posed to engulf the stranger, so I launch my attack instead. Air is all I taste when my jaws snap closed and frustration burns against my pastel scales. How dare he evade me, when he could have succumbed so easily and fed me for weeks?
Under the constant drone of rain on the treetops comes the sound of a child’s laugh. While the stranger runs for his life, I decide there is easier prey to catch. All humanity in the world cannot protect the unfortunate youngling who follows the wide trail he has carved with his body. The girl’s scream when she sees me sends the birds of paradise scattering from their nests. It is bloodcurdling and hunger-inducing. My body winds quickly around her delicate body; I am fiercely determined she will not escape me as the stranger has. I hear the crunch of bones only moments after the girl screams, “The <i>albino anaconda</i>!”<div style="width:550px;padding-top:15px;font-family:Bebas Neue;font-size:24px;text-align:right;">tiercel.</div></div></div>
This stranger shall not be so lucky. It had been the nudiustertain evening when I had last tasted the sweet, supple meat of a horse. My lengthy stomach grumbles at the thought of two meals in one afternoon; the combination of leopard and equine would certainly carry me into the following cycle of the moon.
Instincts do not seem to treat the leopard well — I hiss with laughter at the thought of the feline thinking <i>he</i> is the largest thing in these forests — and it isn’t long before I am curling into the shadows to wait for the stranger to approach.
He smells unique, different from the ash and sweat and green that is typical of the creatures of this land. Everything within me whispers to jump upon him while he is puzzling over the remains of my meal. Whispers grow into shouting and eventually I cannot help myself. It always feels thrilling to stare deep into the eyes of my prey, to watch the terror darken their eyes and see their eyelids open wider at the sight of my large, pale head. Peeling my jaws from top and bottom, the smooth sensation of my bones unhinging brings a tingle to my scaly skin.
All my years listening to those children has given me the skill of understanding the equine language. Laughter would bubble from my throat if I didn’t have my mouth posed to engulf the stranger, so I launch my attack instead. Air is all I taste when my jaws snap closed and frustration burns against my pastel scales. How dare he evade me, when he could have succumbed so easily and fed me for weeks?
Under the constant drone of rain on the treetops comes the sound of a child’s laugh. While the stranger runs for his life, I decide there is easier prey to catch. All humanity in the world cannot protect the unfortunate youngling who follows the wide trail he has carved with his body. The girl’s scream when she sees me sends the birds of paradise scattering from their nests. It is bloodcurdling and hunger-inducing. My body winds quickly around her delicate body; I am fiercely determined she will not escape me as the stranger has. I hear the crunch of bones only moments after the girl screams, “The <i>albino anaconda</i>!”<div style="width:550px;padding-top:15px;font-family:Bebas Neue;font-size:24px;text-align:right;">tiercel.</div></div></div>