Post by Foxspirit on Mar 1, 2008 16:42:45 GMT -5
Curtains billowed after windows rattling in their frames, and the porch door creaked open before the wind slammed it into the wall. The man lifted his flickering lantern to the storm, its feeble light barely casting the shadows from the porch steps. He griped the railing as he eased himself from the white porch, and hobbled to the shed where the door flapped wide open, revealing a dark interior. Fat raindrops pattered on the tin roof, deafening the man from the muffled cry comming from the shed. He fought the wind for possession of the splintered door, and leaned his shoulder into it when suddenly the wind died completely. A startled yelp escaped him as he fell forward, grazing his cheek against the shed's side. His lantern shattered on the wet grass and the candle sputtered before dying. Rain thickened the darkness and briefly became sharp needles each time lightning cracked the sky, and thunder shook every habitat nearby.
The man lifted his hand gingerly to his cheek to asess the damage. It stung, but luckily quite shallow. He scrambled to his feet as fast as his weary body allowed before stepping inside the shed, seeking a relief from the drenching rain. Lightning split the sky illuminateing a small furry shape the size of a kitten sitting at the window with one bright orange eye, gazing at him levely, its short gray fur a sharp blue in the light. Then it went dark.
The man's heart sputtered and his breath caught in his throat. That's why tonight was such a bad night. Everyone knew that the Whyke, a kitten sized animal with one orange eye traveled from one human habitat to another, reaking havoc in its wake. His hands trembled as he sought the shed door for the strap of leather hooked on as the doorknob. The shed was illuminated once again, but this time the whyke was gone from the window. Rumors had it, that a runt piglet had been discovered bitten and chewed, but not wholly. There was no reason why the whyke wouldn't attack the old man, and he knew it. The leather slipped into his hand, and he shoved the door open with his shoulder, rain pouring onto his frame, as if beating him to the ground. The Whyke was known to come with horrendous storms, usually rain..... what if....
He grabbed the wet candle from his abandoned lantern and limped to the house. The nape of his neck prickled intensly, like someone waiting, watching for him to stumble and fall. He rummaged through his dark kitchen, acutely aware of a small dark shape standing in the dark light of the doorway, sitting with its tail tucked around its leg. He pinched a match and struck it against the box. Fire flared and his vision blured. He felt for the wick on the candle and willed it to light- quickly. The tiny flame ate up his match as it dried the rain soaked wick and he fetched another one to finish drying the wick and light. He saw the shadow move towards him, it's luminecent eye glaring at him with a ferocity that made him shiver and grow cold despite the June heat. He set his lips in a thin line of determination and slowly brandished the candle like a sword, his eyes glued to the whyke. It to a step backwards before sitting back on its haunches, and swiping at the light with its paws as if trying to put it out. Or was it playing? The senior man wiped sweat from his brow and gulped. He shifted to the fireplace, but the whyke seemed to read his mind, and before he could move it pounce on his shin, sinking every tooth and nail into him. Energy drained from him like water in a sink and with a groan, he fell to the floor. The candled rolled and bumped against a barrel hidden in the corner, casting a flickering shadow on the label: gun powder. The man's eyes followed, and resignation dawned in them. He closed them, waiting for death. The fire knawed at the damp wood of the barrell, as the one-eyed kitten painfully knawed on his leg. Any second now... he thought as his hand twitched in pain.......
A great cloud of fire and smoke lit the sky, the shed, the yard, and the forest as neighbors jumped in their beds, startled.
Chips of wood and debris cascaded from the clouded sky, and a fire crackled in the place of the cabin. The man had found the enemy of the Whyke. Fire....
The man lifted his hand gingerly to his cheek to asess the damage. It stung, but luckily quite shallow. He scrambled to his feet as fast as his weary body allowed before stepping inside the shed, seeking a relief from the drenching rain. Lightning split the sky illuminateing a small furry shape the size of a kitten sitting at the window with one bright orange eye, gazing at him levely, its short gray fur a sharp blue in the light. Then it went dark.
The man's heart sputtered and his breath caught in his throat. That's why tonight was such a bad night. Everyone knew that the Whyke, a kitten sized animal with one orange eye traveled from one human habitat to another, reaking havoc in its wake. His hands trembled as he sought the shed door for the strap of leather hooked on as the doorknob. The shed was illuminated once again, but this time the whyke was gone from the window. Rumors had it, that a runt piglet had been discovered bitten and chewed, but not wholly. There was no reason why the whyke wouldn't attack the old man, and he knew it. The leather slipped into his hand, and he shoved the door open with his shoulder, rain pouring onto his frame, as if beating him to the ground. The Whyke was known to come with horrendous storms, usually rain..... what if....
He grabbed the wet candle from his abandoned lantern and limped to the house. The nape of his neck prickled intensly, like someone waiting, watching for him to stumble and fall. He rummaged through his dark kitchen, acutely aware of a small dark shape standing in the dark light of the doorway, sitting with its tail tucked around its leg. He pinched a match and struck it against the box. Fire flared and his vision blured. He felt for the wick on the candle and willed it to light- quickly. The tiny flame ate up his match as it dried the rain soaked wick and he fetched another one to finish drying the wick and light. He saw the shadow move towards him, it's luminecent eye glaring at him with a ferocity that made him shiver and grow cold despite the June heat. He set his lips in a thin line of determination and slowly brandished the candle like a sword, his eyes glued to the whyke. It to a step backwards before sitting back on its haunches, and swiping at the light with its paws as if trying to put it out. Or was it playing? The senior man wiped sweat from his brow and gulped. He shifted to the fireplace, but the whyke seemed to read his mind, and before he could move it pounce on his shin, sinking every tooth and nail into him. Energy drained from him like water in a sink and with a groan, he fell to the floor. The candled rolled and bumped against a barrel hidden in the corner, casting a flickering shadow on the label: gun powder. The man's eyes followed, and resignation dawned in them. He closed them, waiting for death. The fire knawed at the damp wood of the barrell, as the one-eyed kitten painfully knawed on his leg. Any second now... he thought as his hand twitched in pain.......
BOOM!!!
A great cloud of fire and smoke lit the sky, the shed, the yard, and the forest as neighbors jumped in their beds, startled.
Chips of wood and debris cascaded from the clouded sky, and a fire crackled in the place of the cabin. The man had found the enemy of the Whyke. Fire....