By Tanya Johnson
In the depths of winter on a Sunday morning, she found herself passed out in the family cemetery. She awoke to slight sounds that could be heard nearby. Rising slowly to her feet, she pulled out her bow and arrow, took aim, and fired.
Assuming it was a rabbit, she drew closer without hesitation. This was the toughest archer in the village, and therefore the strongest of warriors among the contenders.
Peering behind the bushes, there was no corpse to be seen. A low rumble began, followed by bright red eyes from the bush. Her courage may not save her now.
This is a very good story. I like the way the tables were turned.
Thank you so much, I appreciate this a lot!
Very well done. Loved the last line!
Oh dear. A sign of the future.