Every inch of his body sensed her presence – Dead Deer

Every inch of his body sensed her presence.

Silence. Everything feels different, strange. That kind of thing. Fancy a beer, but the bars all seem to be shut. Why so silent? No people? This city teems with people. Where are they? Why? Suddenly you hear a door slam and jerk your head in it’s direction. You sense, rather than see, the closing door. “Hi”, you hazard, your voice sounding peculiar, strained. No response. You cross the wide bridge you’ve crossed so many times, cars lay empty and abandoned. What has happened, and why are you not aware? You can hear birds. When did you last hear birds in the city? Looking up into the deep blue sky, the sun drenching your eyes in a warm pain you see some circling above. A boat eases below the bridge and you shout down. The gentle lapping of the broad river slapping into the hull is the only answer. Half way across and you stop. An unfamiliar noise. A soft but rhythmic flapping, flopping sound is the first thing you hear. Standing stock still the relentless throbbing continues. A new sense enters. Smell. What is that smell? It is earthy and visceral and vital; at once unpleasant and comforting. Which recess of memory can bring this?. Childhood, Yes. With the parents. A new noise, it is breathing, heavy breathing. The smell! It was the zoo, you turn and your eyes see it, a magnificent lioness padding ever faster towards you with all the insouciance of a city dealer walking to lunch after making a seven-figure sum just that morning. You are simultaneously in awe and in terror. You cannot move, and suddenly every part of your body feels the mighty beast as it leaps on you and the taste of fear and fur enters your dry, so dry, mouth.

Today I wrote from 22:00 to 22:10. I was prompted by ideas here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here