The Hunters

By David Rae

Snaking roots snare your ankles pulling you under the mud. You grab hold of an overhanging branch and scream. More roots wrap over you and drag you deeper, down towards the underworld. You look to me, begging for help.

My hands fumble as I notch an arrow to my bow.

The End

First published in 50 Word Stories





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s