The fall air was crisp and clean as she flew, the coolness of the night washing over her. Fall nights were bittersweet, as soon the paths would be empty of people, and she would slumber until they returned. But that time had not yet come. A late-night jogger passed her hiding spot in the trees and she followed silently. She easily caught up with him when he slowed to a stop, marking something on his phone. She moved her lips close to his ear, whispering to him in ancient language he wouldn't recognize, and preparing to feed. He whirled around, clapping her in his hands. As she fell to the ground, the last thing she heard before a shoe covered her vision was "Stupid mosquitos".
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WritOber 2022
Historia CortaA few short autumn writing exercises for the month of October.
