The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
Vibrations disturb me, feet pounding on the dusty floor. Flashes of torch light as they race through the passages trying to find me, wanting to kill me. They lust my blood, I prey on their children. Shouts from a hoarse voice, “It’s over here!” and a charge of roaring vultures ready to rip me limb from limb. I stay hidden, I smell their fear.
They want to find me but they are afraid to. Folklore feeds their imagination and curiosity. I am a monster to them, but all I want is to eat and to survive. I was here before them and will live long after any of them if they leave me alone. They loathe me though, but they fail to see the irony in their loathing. They see me as evil, abhor because I eat their young, but do they not eat the young of other species themselves to survive? The cow does not hunt them down in their home for it and threaten to burn them alive like they do with some of Earths creatures.
The hunters spread out again to search the nooks and crannies. A small shadow enters my corner. He sees me and stops in terror. I am not what his mind told him I would be. He stares and looks behind to call out for help, but nothing comes out of his mouth. My next meal cannot speak. He is a weak specimen. I lunge and maul, tear flesh, strip bone, and feast on what will be my only sustenance for days. The boy’s fallen torch deceives me and casts my horrors on the passage, the hunters come and scream to try and scare me.
I run too fast for them to reach me, though they try and shoot me still. I am fortunate I am more agile than they. Out of sight I climb and crawl and the flashes whisk past my shelter, I smell their rage at the loss of another young, but they brought me my food so I obliged and ate. They give up and retreat until another day, carrying their sad news that the monster has struck again and spin stories of how they saw the beast in the tales and will dream of being a hero to few, but I am no beast, no monster. I am just like them. I eat others to live; I kill if it means I survive. And another night, I am lost to them.
They want to find me but they are afraid to. Folklore feeds their imagination and curiosity. I am a monster to them, but all I want is to eat and to survive. I was here before them and will live long after any of them if they leave me alone. They loathe me though, but they fail to see the irony in their loathing. They see me as evil, abhor because I eat their young, but do they not eat the young of other species themselves to survive? The cow does not hunt them down in their home for it and threaten to burn them alive like they do with some of Earths creatures.
The hunters spread out again to search the nooks and crannies. A small shadow enters my corner. He sees me and stops in terror. I am not what his mind told him I would be. He stares and looks behind to call out for help, but nothing comes out of his mouth. My next meal cannot speak. He is a weak specimen. I lunge and maul, tear flesh, strip bone, and feast on what will be my only sustenance for days. The boy’s fallen torch deceives me and casts my horrors on the passage, the hunters come and scream to try and scare me.
I run too fast for them to reach me, though they try and shoot me still. I am fortunate I am more agile than they. Out of sight I climb and crawl and the flashes whisk past my shelter, I smell their rage at the loss of another young, but they brought me my food so I obliged and ate. They give up and retreat until another day, carrying their sad news that the monster has struck again and spin stories of how they saw the beast in the tales and will dream of being a hero to few, but I am no beast, no monster. I am just like them. I eat others to live; I kill if it means I survive. And another night, I am lost to them.
Page:
Lacked emotion.
Nice last line, though.
But it didn't really convey the feel very well.
Good stuff, mind.
Nice last line, though.
But it didn't really convey the feel very well.
Good stuff, mind.
A fast paced little story, weaving back and forth around the central theme. The decision to use a person person point of view was a good one because it was possible to empathise with the character
Slightly weaker first paragraph as I thought the vocabulary and literary techniques were slightly lacking.
The second paragraph repeated 'young' and 'me' a few too many times, but, apart from those small criticisms, it was very readable and a refreshing short story.
Slightly weaker first paragraph as I thought the vocabulary and literary techniques were slightly lacking.
The second paragraph repeated 'young' and 'me' a few too many times, but, apart from those small criticisms, it was very readable and a refreshing short story.
Vibrations disturb me, feet pounding on the dusty floor. Flashes of torch light as they race through the passages trying to find me, wanting to kill me. They lust my blood, I prey on their children. Shouts from a hoarse voice, “It’s over here!” and a charge of roaring vultures ready to rip me limb from limb. I stay hidden, I smell their fear.
They want to find me but they are afraid to. Folklore feeds their imagination and curiosity. I am a monster to them, but all I want is to eat and to survive. I was here before them and will live long after any of them if they leave me alone. They loathe me though, but they fail to see the irony in their loathing. They see me as evil, abhor because I eat their young, but do they not eat the young of other species themselves to survive? The cow does not hunt them down in their home for it and threaten to burn them alive like they do with some of Earths creatures.
The hunters spread out again to search the nooks and crannies. A small shadow enters my corner. He sees me and stops in terror. I am not what his mind told him I would be. He stares and looks behind to call out for help, but nothing comes out of his mouth. My next meal cannot speak. He is a weak specimen. I lunge and maul, tear flesh, strip bone, and feast on what will be my only sustenance for days. The boy’s fallen torch deceives me and casts my horrors on the passage, the hunters come and scream to try and scare me.
I run too fast for them to reach me, though they try and shoot me still. I am fortunate I am more agile than they. Out of sight I climb and crawl and the flashes whisk past my shelter, I smell their rage at the loss of another young, but they brought me my food so I obliged and ate. They give up and retreat until another day, carrying their sad news that the monster has struck again and spin stories of how they saw the beast in the tales and will dream of being a hero to few, but I am no beast, no monster. I am just like them. I eat others to live; I kill if it means I survive. And another night, I am lost to them.
They want to find me but they are afraid to. Folklore feeds their imagination and curiosity. I am a monster to them, but all I want is to eat and to survive. I was here before them and will live long after any of them if they leave me alone. They loathe me though, but they fail to see the irony in their loathing. They see me as evil, abhor because I eat their young, but do they not eat the young of other species themselves to survive? The cow does not hunt them down in their home for it and threaten to burn them alive like they do with some of Earths creatures.
The hunters spread out again to search the nooks and crannies. A small shadow enters my corner. He sees me and stops in terror. I am not what his mind told him I would be. He stares and looks behind to call out for help, but nothing comes out of his mouth. My next meal cannot speak. He is a weak specimen. I lunge and maul, tear flesh, strip bone, and feast on what will be my only sustenance for days. The boy’s fallen torch deceives me and casts my horrors on the passage, the hunters come and scream to try and scare me.
I run too fast for them to reach me, though they try and shoot me still. I am fortunate I am more agile than they. Out of sight I climb and crawl and the flashes whisk past my shelter, I smell their rage at the loss of another young, but they brought me my food so I obliged and ate. They give up and retreat until another day, carrying their sad news that the monster has struck again and spin stories of how they saw the beast in the tales and will dream of being a hero to few, but I am no beast, no monster. I am just like them. I eat others to live; I kill if it means I survive. And another night, I am lost to them.
Page: