Basking beneath the heating lamp, Timos drifted in and out of sleep. Even with plentiful, active, crickets abound, his appetite's been absent.
When they walked aboard there were too many people with too many pets; all barking, meowing, and incessant chattering. His senses were overstimulated. His owner was keen by postponing their enrichment.
Days and nights melted into one another as they flittered through the cabin window. It seemed like they've been there for too long.
Returning to sleep, a large jolt woke him up, sending him flying into the tank's wall as his roof collapsed atop of him, squeezing his life out.
He wasn't there for long as his owner busted in through the cabin door, scooping him up.
Dashing for higher ground, his owner may of had the will power, but his shoes lacked the grip as the ship shifted from horizontal to vertical.
Sliding towards the water, Timos scrambled, leaping from his owner's arms.
"I gotta leave!" He scanned for a nearby floating device. Running across the water, he clambered onto a suitcase. He spotted land from afar, but it disappeared from his view replaced with a brine rim. Turning around, he noticed a vortex had formed!
"If I can just get to land!" Timos began sprinting trying to catch a glimpse of the green above the blue. His muscles started to tire and his lungs started to burn. "If I can just get to land..." As he neared the edge of the bowl his foot sank.
***
Thavien's Tokens: "This story is inspired by the recent Vocal Social Society challenge, as issued by Gina C."
For this week, your prompt is to write a Microfiction Story of 250 words or less about…
A pet on a boat! 🐶🛥️
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Thavien Yliaster and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Price I Pay
Here is a link to Randy Baker's Challenge: Prompted #4 *** Joseph It smells like desperation. Actually, it smells like bleach trying to hide the smell of urine, death, and desperation permanented into the studs of my new home. Even as the perky redhead in scrubs pushes me around in my wheelchair, blathering on about the different rooms and the schedule for the week, I can see a man pouring bleach in a bucket, preparing yet another attempt to mask the bits of horrid smell still peeking through.
By Alexandria Stanwyck4 days ago in Fiction
Butterfly Dreams True
In the core of the verdant Amazon rainforest, an isolated town named Piri lay concealed in the midst of transcending trees and lively foliage. The town was a safe-haven, where time appeared to slow, permitting its occupants to reside as one with nature. Piri had confidential, known exclusively to the locals and a couple of picked pariahs — the Butterfly Tree.
By borsha afrin303 days ago in Fiction
A telegram to Little Me
I acquired a magical souvenir; it was a realisation. By taking an impulsive trip to Thailand, I awarded myself the chance to have it. You are our own gift shop. You choose the opening times, you choose the stock. They are the very nature of wisdom, realisations. One could say we collect them and form a magnificent portfolio entitled Experience. And that's why we do the majority of things we do. But travelling is the act most generous in the offering of experience, the gift shop with the best stock. We go on the hunt for experiences, daring ourselves to be stimulated in new ways, by new flavours. To sweat, swim or shiver in the waters of new challenges. To hear new sounds, learn novel outlooks, and relish as hinges creak with unknown doors opening in our hearts and minds. This realisation and the flourishing effect it had upon me made Thailand my best trip yet. All this realisation consisted of was merely a stripped back epiphany of why we do these things. See new places, take new risks, seek refreshing distractions from all that we're tired of being familiar with.
By Konrad Kramp5 days ago in Wander
Comments (1)
ahhh. I'm still hoping he made it.