he was the snake and she was the mouse, a tedious little game he played with his victims. He cloaked himself from sight, now mastered his once foreign ability the young boy was so very skilled at play his little game of snake and mouse.
Yet the yearlong boy found himself ever so delighted to see her, a target within his father's own territory? Oh how delightful! Why not take a bite, literally. He weaved between brush entertained by her whimsical movements and how she was so mystified by a pathetic creature as a colored fly? Pah! It was absolutely daunting the idea of bringing horror to her amber eyes, the enjoyment as he plucked flesh from her bones so skillfully.
Once again something stopped him on raining upon her parade, it was that of the mare that crept within the cave, surely she wasn't of proportions of his mother's rage. Not even barely close, he had been thought multiple lessons as a little babe, one of not to bite. But did he listen? Hell no! He was bad to the bone yet, not as fearless to enrage a hormonal mare.
So there he sat, his prey lingered about playfully. As he watched her Crimson eyes peaking through the foliage awaiting for his father to find her. Something that did not look nor smell like one of his offspring, a disappointment towards the herdland. A little petite filly he would gladly pick flesh off of her bones like a vulture once his father finds her.
Yes, he'll wait and he'll appear when his father finds her and, he will. He always finds them and he's always watching.
Yet the yearlong boy found himself ever so delighted to see her, a target within his father's own territory? Oh how delightful! Why not take a bite, literally. He weaved between brush entertained by her whimsical movements and how she was so mystified by a pathetic creature as a colored fly? Pah! It was absolutely daunting the idea of bringing horror to her amber eyes, the enjoyment as he plucked flesh from her bones so skillfully.
Once again something stopped him on raining upon her parade, it was that of the mare that crept within the cave, surely she wasn't of proportions of his mother's rage. Not even barely close, he had been thought multiple lessons as a little babe, one of not to bite. But did he listen? Hell no! He was bad to the bone yet, not as fearless to enrage a hormonal mare.
So there he sat, his prey lingered about playfully. As he watched her Crimson eyes peaking through the foliage awaiting for his father to find her. Something that did not look nor smell like one of his offspring, a disappointment towards the herdland. A little petite filly he would gladly pick flesh off of her bones like a vulture once his father finds her.
Yes, he'll wait and he'll appear when his father finds her and, he will. He always finds them and he's always watching.
WAYLAN
-NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME-