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January 22, 2007

1.22.07

Today's theme is to tell about Being Hunted.

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Tanya: Untitled

We were walking in the forest, so close to home. It had just snowed, but it was almost spring. She tore out a clump of fragile green grass, savoring the smell and freshness.

She sensed them before I did, and told me to run. I never heard their noises; I just ran, fearing the tone of her voice. Banks of snow, frozen branches and trees rushed past me, and I didn’t stop until I’d nearly collapsed. That’s when I noticed she wasn’t behind me.

They killed my mother, Faline. We can’t go nearer to the men. They’ll kill us too.

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David: Cat And Also Cat

The other ship was at the edge of our radar range, winking on the scope as asteroids passed between them and us. If not for Callie’s mods, we’d never have seen them at all; they were that good.

They’d been following us for four days. The worst was having to pretend we didn’t know about them while trying to maneuver away in the brief periods when the Belt gave us cover. They were faster and better armed, which meant they weren’t ready to make their move yet.

Time for Plan B. “Bring me a hostage and open a comm channel.”

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Jeff R.: Someone Sends Me a Calling Card, But Forgets to Sign It

The tail was good; I didn't notice him until seconds before the first shot slammed into the concrete in front of where I'd instinctively stopped short. I stepped out into the traffic. Nice thing about smaller towns: people will stop and swear rather than run you down.

The second shot hit a car. It either hurt or rattled the driver, because he swerved, hit another little import. Low-speed collision, airbags out but no blood on the road. I was across the street, lost in a crowd before he got off a third.

I wondered who sent him. Julian? Lenox? Christine?

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Ted: In for a Penny...

I have always hated it when hero becomes victim through an unnecessary need to find motivations. I figure everyone is motivated by the same things: money, sex, and food. Not always in that order. So when a giant skeleton says it thinks I'm food, I take it at its word.

Tossing a naked Penny over my shoulder should qualify me for sainthood. Not for the rescue, but for not being distracted by the view. It would have been impossible to remember that we were about to be hunted except for the sound of bones scraping together.

'Course, I'm not Catholic.

Read more from Ted's .

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Jim: Cereal Killers

‘Tis only in the wee hours of the morn when I might catch me breath for that seems to be the only time when the little beasties sleep.

I’ve avoided them well these many years but it makes no difference. Though the outcome may take decades, I know their dogged persistence will ultimately win out.

And even should I manage to survive this season’s crop, they will eventually breed. Then it starts all over again.

And say what ye will, as fast as I might devise new tricks, they conquer them.

Nasty little children! They’re always after me Lucky Charms!

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