The Rabbit

A hare with its head turned partially toward the viewer.

Fun prompt today. I needed to incorporate as many of the following words as I could into a story 250-350 words long. This one might be a tiny bit over.

I didn’t have to use all the words; the rule was to use one in every other sentence. I started them in the second sentence.

  • trick
  • memory
  • aboard
  • tiger
  • pretend
  • carrot
  • appliance
  • cage
  • rings
  • crow
  • filthy
  • explode

Yarelis was a rulebreaker; always had been and always would be—and all she wanted was to be promoted. She had been chosen to be one of the Rabbits, but as soon as the door of her cage swung open, she tore across the field and pushed off the ball of her foot like she used to when she was a high jumper, wrapping her arms around the lowest branch of a sycamore and pulling herself up.

No matter the consequences for breaking rules–of which climbing trees was one–she would not be caught by the Hounds today.

They followed the Rabbits, matte metal bodies dull in the sunlight, blue rings glowing around the sensors of their eyes.

The Hounds.

Aboard their backs rode arachnoid creatures, the capsule of their abdomens and cephalothoraxes tucked into divots in the Hounds’ armor, their legs—four in the front and two long jumpers in the back, pushed up and out like metallic tufts of fur.

The Fleas.

Yarelis’ heart quickened, and the twisted scar pulsed along the side of her stomach where a Flea had latched onto her before it exploded—was it six months ago?

That’s right. Yarelis had pretended to be a Rabbit for fourteen months now. It really was about time she was promoted to Hunter.

Above her, a crow pecked at a piece of bark and turned a solemn eye toward her. It must have been one of the Wardens. One more jerk from the bird’s beak freed the bark, which fluttered down into Yarelis’ hair, filthy and matted.

Her aptitude for rule-breaking earned her no shower tokens.

The need to recall why she was here—why there must be Hunters and Rabbits—pierced her like a shard of ice, as it did every time she played the Game, but like every other time, the memory evaded her.

Yarelis shook her head, and the bark continued its descent, landing on top of the Hound circling the trunk below, the Fleas already beginning to extract themselves from their pouches.

“Hey little fuckers, this rabbit’s got a carrot for you.” Yarelis reached inside her orange jumpsuit. The grenade Bryon had smuggled to her was there, warm against her skin.

If you enjoy reading my posts, please like, comment, and/or subscribe. I’d love to connect with you.

Leave a Reply