Tuesday, October 2, 2012

100 Words a Day 58


The snake slithered silently through the soft sward. Its tongue flicked out as it glided along, tracking a mouse. The blades of grass rippled as the snake passed between them, indistinguishable from the ripples created by the soft breeze. As it neared the mouse, the snake could smell the seeds it was gathering. Without a thought it slowed and crept forward, as much as a snake can creep, in silence. It froze when it smelled the mouse within striking distance, collapsing itself slightly in preparation to spring. The mouse was oblivious, continuing to gnaw at the seed in its mouth.

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