A breeze. The leaves rustled. She awoke with a start. Lulled by the sound of bubbles and fishes she had fallen asleep, she did not know when. The boat was anchored almost midstream by a tight rope to a mangrove tree. But it was the backwaters and it was low tide. The branches of the tree knarled powerfully and gripped the soil with all its might. No storm could pluck it apart. The shore was not too distant. But the night was dark and foggy, so she couldn't see beyond the shore. The forest was dark and impenetrable. It was a vast unknown.
The beast stood there. The breeze wafted towards him, bringing to him her smell. He lay hidden behind the trees. Along the shore he trode, his eyes upon her. With his practised eye he measured the distance to the boat, and wondered if he could make it. He was prepared to wait. He had set his eyes upon her.
She shifted uneasily. She could sleep no more. She had a premonition. May be she saw it coming.
4 comments:
Wriju
You must read me your stories sometime.
You are a wonderful story teller.
I get it...it's a dirty old man in a rain mac, about to jump out of the bushes and "flash" eh? ;)
Ah ha. A beast huh?
She fears the hungry wolf within you, does she not?
Chloe:
That, from a columnist, is a great compliment.
Fly:
Exactly! I wonder how you manage to see through the plot so easily ;-)
Eric:
Most of the time I am scared of women! So this one isn't about me really.
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