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With a sudden explosive effort Constance leapt high into the air and landed on top of a crumbling brick wall at the edge of Middlefield. She looked around her. Eerie blue moonlight shadows fell as if night had split the blackest ink across the world. The crisp midnight air hung like invisible smoke around the houses. Her prey was hidden from sight. But it was out there. It was always there. Every night was the same: the scuttling creatures would rise from their dank, musty homes and crawl the world. Constance would tell herself she was only feeding, but she knew it wasn't true. She enjoyed the sport. She was mistress of this world. The creatures feared her. She could smell the terror as she killed, and taste the fear in their blood as she fed.
Constance clambered down from the wall and crouched low in the grass on the other side. All her senses tingled and flared as she took in the scene around her. There was so much choice. Would she take a child, or an adult, male or female, young or old. They were all available. But, as was the fashion amoung her rather lazy kind, she opted to take the nearest.
A short distance away, obvlivious to the nearby threat, two youngsters sat drinking from a discarded can of beer. They were enjoying this unusual treat. They didn't dare venture out in the light, there was too much activity and bussle. Nighttime was their time. Each evening as the sun fell all of their kind would creep into the streets of Middlefield to feast on the debris leftover by the "day people". They were used to the routinue, their way.
Hunched forward low to the ground Constance moved slowly forward. The moon highlighted the muscles of her arched back, her powerful legs. Slowly razor sharp claws extended and scraped the earth as she crept onward. She bared her teeth, fangs shining white, gleaming.
The two victims stopped drinking and sat up. Something was out there. They couldn't see or hear anything, but living in the night had honed their other senses. They knew something was wrong but couldn't place it. They listened for a moment longer. Nothing.
Constance paused and watched her next meal. They were alert now. She would have to be quick or go hungry.
She flashed forward, talons flying. Her prey fled, but she chased. She was slower, and less agile, but she had hunters reflexs and a keen eye. Whereever they ran she was a split second behind. This way and that they chased.
Constance loved the chase. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping, she lived for that moment.
But it never lasted.
She sank her teeth into the fleshy neck of her latest conquest and hauled it up to carry away where she could eat without fear of being caught or disturbed. The sweet sickly blood trickled from the mortal wound she had inflicted seconds earlier, finding its way into her mouth. She felt sublime. This was true sport, and she would enjoy her reward. After all, if they kept to their way of life, she would keep to hers.
Constance clambered down from the wall and crouched low in the grass on the other side. All her senses tingled and flared as she took in the scene around her. There was so much choice. Would she take a child, or an adult, male or female, young or old. They were all available. But, as was the fashion amoung her rather lazy kind, she opted to take the nearest.
A short distance away, obvlivious to the nearby threat, two youngsters sat drinking from a discarded can of beer. They were enjoying this unusual treat. They didn't dare venture out in the light, there was too much activity and bussle. Nighttime was their time. Each evening as the sun fell all of their kind would creep into the streets of Middlefield to feast on the debris leftover by the "day people". They were used to the routinue, their way.
Hunched forward low to the ground Constance moved slowly forward. The moon highlighted the muscles of her arched back, her powerful legs. Slowly razor sharp claws extended and scraped the earth as she crept onward. She bared her teeth, fangs shining white, gleaming.
The two victims stopped drinking and sat up. Something was out there. They couldn't see or hear anything, but living in the night had honed their other senses. They knew something was wrong but couldn't place it. They listened for a moment longer. Nothing.
Constance paused and watched her next meal. They were alert now. She would have to be quick or go hungry.
She flashed forward, talons flying. Her prey fled, but she chased. She was slower, and less agile, but she had hunters reflexs and a keen eye. Whereever they ran she was a split second behind. This way and that they chased.
Constance loved the chase. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping, she lived for that moment.
But it never lasted.
She sank her teeth into the fleshy neck of her latest conquest and hauled it up to carry away where she could eat without fear of being caught or disturbed. The sweet sickly blood trickled from the mortal wound she had inflicted seconds earlier, finding its way into her mouth. She felt sublime. This was true sport, and she would enjoy her reward. After all, if they kept to their way of life, she would keep to hers.
Enjoyed that and I must have been the only person who didn't realise you were talking about a flipping cat!
I liked this the first time and still like it now :D
Nice idea wrapped in a soft flowing writing style.
Nice idea wrapped in a soft flowing writing style.
Nice descriptive writing, flows well. Enjoyed it.
Nice. One thing though: don't cats like to toy with their prey before eating? Unless Constance is totally wild and hungry, in which case I'm analysing this way too much.....!
I'm guessing Constance is a cat, an impression I got from about the third line.
This was really well written. A few grammtical issues, but the words flowed nicely, and it was rally easy to read, and nicely done at that.
This was really well written. A few grammtical issues, but the words flowed nicely, and it was rally easy to read, and nicely done at that.
With a sudden explosive effort Constance leapt high into the air and landed on top of a crumbling brick wall at the edge of Middlefield. She looked around her. Eerie blue moonlight shadows fell as if night had split the blackest ink across the world. The crisp midnight air hung like invisible smoke around the houses. Her prey was hidden from sight. But it was out there. It was always there. Every night was the same: the scuttling creatures would rise from their dank, musty homes and crawl the world. Constance would tell herself she was only feeding, but she knew it wasn't true. She enjoyed the sport. She was mistress of this world. The creatures feared her. She could smell the terror as she killed, and taste the fear in their blood as she fed.
Constance clambered down from the wall and crouched low in the grass on the other side. All her senses tingled and flared as she took in the scene around her. There was so much choice. Would she take a child, or an adult, male or female, young or old. They were all available. But, as was the fashion amoung her rather lazy kind, she opted to take the nearest.
A short distance away, obvlivious to the nearby threat, two youngsters sat drinking from a discarded can of beer. They were enjoying this unusual treat. They didn't dare venture out in the light, there was too much activity and bussle. Nighttime was their time. Each evening as the sun fell all of their kind would creep into the streets of Middlefield to feast on the debris leftover by the "day people". They were used to the routinue, their way.
Hunched forward low to the ground Constance moved slowly forward. The moon highlighted the muscles of her arched back, her powerful legs. Slowly razor sharp claws extended and scraped the earth as she crept onward. She bared her teeth, fangs shining white, gleaming.
The two victims stopped drinking and sat up. Something was out there. They couldn't see or hear anything, but living in the night had honed their other senses. They knew something was wrong but couldn't place it. They listened for a moment longer. Nothing.
Constance paused and watched her next meal. They were alert now. She would have to be quick or go hungry.
She flashed forward, talons flying. Her prey fled, but she chased. She was slower, and less agile, but she had hunters reflexs and a keen eye. Whereever they ran she was a split second behind. This way and that they chased.
Constance loved the chase. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping, she lived for that moment.
But it never lasted.
She sank her teeth into the fleshy neck of her latest conquest and hauled it up to carry away where she could eat without fear of being caught or disturbed. The sweet sickly blood trickled from the mortal wound she had inflicted seconds earlier, finding its way into her mouth. She felt sublime. This was true sport, and she would enjoy her reward. After all, if they kept to their way of life, she would keep to hers.
Constance clambered down from the wall and crouched low in the grass on the other side. All her senses tingled and flared as she took in the scene around her. There was so much choice. Would she take a child, or an adult, male or female, young or old. They were all available. But, as was the fashion amoung her rather lazy kind, she opted to take the nearest.
A short distance away, obvlivious to the nearby threat, two youngsters sat drinking from a discarded can of beer. They were enjoying this unusual treat. They didn't dare venture out in the light, there was too much activity and bussle. Nighttime was their time. Each evening as the sun fell all of their kind would creep into the streets of Middlefield to feast on the debris leftover by the "day people". They were used to the routinue, their way.
Hunched forward low to the ground Constance moved slowly forward. The moon highlighted the muscles of her arched back, her powerful legs. Slowly razor sharp claws extended and scraped the earth as she crept onward. She bared her teeth, fangs shining white, gleaming.
The two victims stopped drinking and sat up. Something was out there. They couldn't see or hear anything, but living in the night had honed their other senses. They knew something was wrong but couldn't place it. They listened for a moment longer. Nothing.
Constance paused and watched her next meal. They were alert now. She would have to be quick or go hungry.
She flashed forward, talons flying. Her prey fled, but she chased. She was slower, and less agile, but she had hunters reflexs and a keen eye. Whereever they ran she was a split second behind. This way and that they chased.
Constance loved the chase. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping, she lived for that moment.
But it never lasted.
She sank her teeth into the fleshy neck of her latest conquest and hauled it up to carry away where she could eat without fear of being caught or disturbed. The sweet sickly blood trickled from the mortal wound she had inflicted seconds earlier, finding its way into her mouth. She felt sublime. This was true sport, and she would enjoy her reward. After all, if they kept to their way of life, she would keep to hers.