Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.
Credit: David Clode via Unsplash
He flicks his tale and propels through the tank, but he used to swim without stopping in oceans lacking clear-walls; where he stalked his pray as it bled-out and struggled. Hunting once was meaningful, but now his razor teeth clamp down and tear flesh in a passive frenzy; he has rows of the sharpest cutting knives in his mouth.
The curious eyes staring back at him are baffling as pale up-right creatures tap the clear-wall forgetting he’s wild as he rams it; their shrieks cause his blood to roar — somehow he will return home.
©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.
She was svelte and curvaceous. Her skin was made of porcelain and she had long fingernails with shiny midnight polish. Her lips were red as dying rose petals and her velvet dress matched, slit up her naked thigh. Her dramatic eyes were cold pools. She had a wild mane of wavy black hair that she often threw back in coquettish insanity.
They say her husband went mad and tried to stab her with a sharp dagger. That she lives off the blood of those young men brave enough to come knocking.
I am she! My husband did not go mad. I am the one who went off the edge and stabbed him.
But my husband killed my baby. Left me in a bloody heap, at the bottom of the staircase..Now I wait for young dandies who dare to ring my doorbell and I pounce. No power on earth could stop my feeding frenzy. This is my revenge. How dare he pushed me down the stairs.
Word Count: 170