Literary Lion. Meow.

Last week we were suitably hydrated with tales of ‘drink me’, and my thirst was certainly quenched with this little post from SJ at Delirious Antidotes, who’s story is the perfect example of how one word (the last word) maketh a moment.

So to this week, and the lion has his feline family in mind… the word is ‘Panther’. This time we are asking for tales of 150 words or less. Do remember to pingback to this post, include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ and come for a little visit on Instagram or  twitter if you so wish…

Here is my feline tale…

Meow.

She sidled up to him. Her lips lazed into a crooked smirk. Her eyes peeked through lazy lashes. He had been leering at her for the last hour. Her raven hair, her bubblegum lips – they were his favourite. She was dead drunk. No control.

When the maid found him he was strapped to the toilet. Naked. Rope wrapped around him and the white porcelain bowl that he hugged. His head slumped in past the seat. His skin pulled at his spine as it curved over each bobbled bone. Across the ridge was a detailed engraving of a panther, pink. It was deeper than the average tattoo. Blood had seeped from its lines and towards the crevice of his arsehole, drying in its tracks.

The detective snuck under the police tape. She smiled. They had seen that pink panther many times before.

Follow

27 Comment

  1. Dam. One hell of a way to go, even Elvis didn’t get it that bad.
    Nice story. well nice isn’t a good choice of word. Good story 🙂

  2. laura@laurafeasey.com says:

    Haha, thank you!

Leave a Reply