Short Stories

Dasher, Predator

            One…Two…Three…Four… Run.

            They say animals can smell fear, but what about the hunter? A cool breeze blows as something dashes through the woods around her. She stand there, motionless, but not in fear. An appearance of tranquility.

            The thrill of a hunt is like no other, ask anyone who’s experienced it.

            The ‘dasher’ sees her standing still, believing she is afraid of him… but the scent is absent. He stopped behind the trunk of a tree, leaning his back against the rough bark, trying to gauge her thoughts but she remained still as stone. Eyes closed, face front and breathing slow and steadily. The dasher suddenly took off running, but stayed in the area surrounding the odd girl. Her eyes shot open, suddenly, and the dasher froze, the stench of fear clear now, only it wasn’t the girl this time, like he’d hoped. She moved forward slowly, with an in-human grace. Her head never moved, nor did she blink. She seemed to simply glide around the area the dasher had originally been stalking her in.

            She continued for another moment before stopping all at once. Her gaze snapped straight to the dasher who was still frozen up. Her eyes seemed to glow with something that clearly stated ‘Predator’. The deep blue, an ocean to trap those with the misfortune of meeting her.

            Despite the girls small, vulnerable appearance, the dasher had realized his mistake and knew he wouldn’t get the chance to correct it.