Dreams of the Savannah
A Story Every Day in 2024 May 1st 122/366 and a response to Belle's Inside the Animal's Mind [an unofficial challenge]
I am hungry.
The dust is familiar, a similar colour to what I've known, but there are none of the scents of the savannah. The grasses would find plenty to feed them here but they would not be given the chance to grow. They would not provide cover in which to hide, to camouflage, to aid the hunt.
This place is strange. It is not an easy place to hunt and I am thirsty. I prefer it to the dark, damp box they throw me into. When I am there, I sleep and pace, sleep and pace. It makes me angry to be there. I want to hunt! I want to laze in the sun with my pride and think of the prize rump of the buffalo as I tear them to the ground in the fight to eat, to pursue and to claim the creatures that graze and migrate.
When I am taken from the dark, I know I will taste blood. It is a strange tasting sustenance, the bipedal. I do not have a liking for it. It lacks an organic wholeness, the plumpness of the free. It is stringy, taut, with not enough flesh to pick off its long bones. And they reek of fear and containment and repression. It is a flavour that distorts the palate. But it is meat, nonetheless, however meagre the portion.
I am fed in the dark box but not much. Enough to keep me breathing. I am filled with a bloodlust when food arrives, and I eye the feeder with a longing to tear him apart. I can see that he is wary of my golden eye. I lick my lips and let him see my maw. Sometimes he whips me for it and I shrink back, but he knows that with a swipe of my paw, he would be felled and I would be crunching his feeble form between my mighty jaws, my rough tongue stripping each morsel from his skeletal remains.
I smell his fear.
I dream of the savannah as I prowl and roar and kill for these creatures that bid me hunt.
I hope I'll see the open plains again.
One last time.
***
366 words
This ties in with the story from yesterday but is inspired by an unofficial challenge of Belle's which you can find out about here:
This isn't the first time that I have imagined what it would be like to be a creature and write a piece from their perspective:
And the story yesterday to which this links is:
This one also features a savannah and was one of my first stories for the Write a Story Every Day in 2024 challenge:
Right. That's enough plugs.
Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.
122/366
Comments (10)
The poor imprisoned lion. This reminded me of a time when my teenage son was supposed to feed lions at a zoo, for a publicity shot for the failing zoo. The lions were too fierce & not the look the owners were seeking. So, my son fed the tigers which were like large striped kittens... apparently in the wild they're lean, mean killing machines.
Great tie in tale to your previous piece! I think you nailed this captivity narrative with the lion’s voice that feels very realistic
This reminds me of London Zoo and how absolutely thoroughly miserable it was. I always felt sorry for the animals. This was so good Rachel.
Beautiful story and perspective!
Beautifully written! Thank you so much for entering!
I dont know how you managed to capture pent up power quiet so well.
This reminds me why I hate seeing the big cats at the zoo. The pacing is a reminder that they do not belong there, that they hate it and us. And I don’t blame them. This is well written and imagined, Rachel, but saddens me just the same.
An ingenious empathetic, imaginative improvisation upon the previous tale: the prey before, you became the predator! Deftly done indeed!
I'm rooting for him to escape and kill all the humans hehehehehe
Great work