Spoiling the Hunt

You wake up in an overgrown meadow. Your wrists and ankles hurt – looks as if they were tied with rope. What’s that smell – is that you?

A gunshot rings out in the distance. You turn that way. You see a manor house. You hear the excited yaps and barks of a pack of dogs.

Soon, you spot them. Giving chase. Coming for you.

This is your sentence.

Your crime: Opposition. You dared to disagree.

The thunder of horseshoed hooves follows the hounds.

You cannot win, but you can spoilt the hunt. You’ll commit another act of opposition. You won’t run.

8 thoughts on “Spoiling the Hunt”

Comments are closed.

	Three Line Tales… on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Reena Saxena on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Rene Hearthchild on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Where Am I Going? \|… on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	padresramblings on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	The Wall \| Padre… on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Na'ama Yehuda on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Around The Bend \| Na… on Three Line Tales, Week 15…
	Cocoon #3LineTales \|… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	Three Line Tale: Nec… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	Last Dance — 3… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	Still Loved...Still… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	Caged \| Still Loved… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	thereluctantpoet on Three Line Tales, Week 14…
	Three Line Tales Wee… on Three Line Tales, Week 14…