HIDE
a short story
HIDE
a short story
by Dylan Bosworth
Night. Tanned hide slicked with fear slides against my skin, I run. In the mud up to ankles, cold, rain soaked whips of winding grasses score red lines that hiss and burn, stopping low, sharp spear tucked below, crouched in wait.
The ground shudders once—
THOOM
—the puddles dance and grasses part.
THOOM
Again.
Hissing wind, t…
