A Taste of Rush

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wissof-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 chopsticks

 Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

I run through the woods, faster than the wind that is tugging at the ends of my dress. Shedding my clothes, I revel in a caress of the cold rain on my fevered skin. They are chasing me, with their axes and pitchforks raised high above their heads. Puny mortals, with their pitiful weapons and  superstitious fears, do they really think they can catch me? One would think they would learn their lesson from the times before, from the stories the elders told them. As my fangs snap out and my skin splits on my back, I look up at my beloved moon and howl.

It is happiness enough to know one is superior to the fork people.

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39 thoughts on “A Taste of Rush

  1. camgal says:

    As my fangs snap out and my skin splits on my back, I look up at my beloved moon and howl- Awesome reveal. Loved the story and concept 🙂 though I naturally assumed it was a vampire due to the word fang..werewolves are even better 🙂

    Like

  2. Melanie says:

    Seems their superstitions are not so unfounded after all.
    Nice build up and reveal. I’m glad I’m not one to raise a pitch fork against anyone. Doesn’t seems a battle that could be won.

    Like

  3. I love the feeling of superiority she has, and her disdain for the “puny mortals”, left far behind.

    I’m also imagining the elders back at the village having a chat as they shake their heads sadly.
    “They’re not going to catch it, you know.”
    “Oi did tell ’em. Cotton wool in their ears, these young ‘uns.”

    Like

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