is the 1,500 word limit the MAX or the minimum, because i don't think anyone would ever want to write 1,500 words in one poem *.*
Considering the "
lease don't write too long stories" and such, I am going to conclude it is a max.
This is obviously going to be abused by me to write crappy little short stories about my characters > >... Because I don't do poetry.
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(Warning, slight graphic violence, possible odd sentences or mistakes as well as grammatical errors and other stupidity)
#14 Nightmare -
Short proseAnother of those nights, filled with flighty images and broken thoughts. Chasing a dream in a shadowscape.
The branches caught the one whole antler time after time, head being pulled back sharply each time but yet he did not slow down the wild chase. Tonight had to be the night where he caught her, and held her in his arms and kissed her, oh God, he longed for that.
The stag bounces through the undergrowth, the doe just out of reach, always around the next corner of the wooden maze. Only she knew where they were going and perhaps she was the only one who truly did know the reason for the hunts night after night. The reason why he felt so tired in the morning that he could pass out, even after 8 hours of sleep. Why he stubbornly sought her out during the nights in his dreams, even though the chance of sweet embrace was much lower than he wanted to think of.
One, two jumps, and into a clearing sheltered by a wall of rock to one side, the forest even more dense on the other. She disappeared through the leaves on the other side, flashing the white of her tail just before the forest once again engulfed her, and of course he followed her, not missing a step.
A lone howl broke the relative silence, intimidating and nothing like anything he could remember from his dreams. He stopped short in his track, loosing her entirely from sight. This was nothing like those dreams of his. Something was different, not only the howl, but the entire feel was different, strange and twisted, as stepping into someone else's dream. The big soft ears did not catch any more disturbance in the peace, but somehow he still felt the danger come closer. Like he had become the prey of a hunt. He grunted, took a step forward before starting to run again. The moment he moved, the howl was heard once again, much closer, and yet there was nothing to see, nothing to hear than the echo of the call of the predator. He turned on his thin legs, and jumped, a spur of instinct saving him from the jaws of the wolven critter that emerged with an eerie speed from the tangled undergrowth.
He ran.
This was not real, he knew that, lucid dreaming having become a speciality of his, but yet he feared for his life, running head over heels to a place where he could be safe from the teeth and claws of the silent hunter.
He couldn't hear it, yet it was right there, snapping at his legs, seemingly only a jump away from a meal of deer.
A jump and there was the clearing. Walls on all sides, one being a solid mass of rock, the rest being a potential danger to his life, but also a place to search for salvage. He jumped towards the other side of the clearing, only to be violently stopped by another wolf, its stubby claws digging into flesh.
Tooth and claw.
Teeth digging into vulnerable muscle, jaws threatening to crush bone, leaves, branches, pain, blinding pain, clawed paws loosing their footing, maws being cheated of their victory, freedom.
And the feeling when the windpipe was ripped out of the throat, silencing a scream of despair.
Cen sat up, gasping for air that seemed so unwilling to enter his lunges.
His throat hurt.
