Name: SonicBOOM XS Theme: Art to Fiction Word Count: 601 Story: Hunt I'm running. Harder than I ever have, and hopefully harder than I ever will. The human body really is amazing, isn't it? When it comes to impressing girls, it'll lock up and prevent you from moving even a few steps. But when it's a matter of life and death, suddenly you become your own little Superman. You run faster, jump higher. Sadly, though, there usually aren't any girls to impress in these moments. Like right now. I'm running, but I'm all alone. Or rather, without companions. Because try as I might, I won't be alone, not until I leave this jungle. My hunter's still stalking me, playing this real life version of The Most Dangerous Game. He's Zaroff, I'm Rainsford. He's got the advantage, I have nothing but my own wits. And a human body. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster? Dear Mr. Lancaster, where are you?” At least he doesn't have his hounds. I've never been very athletic, so really, the above comparison wasn't too accurate. I've never hunted, let alone been hunted. I have no clue about how to make traps, how to obtain food, and so on. I don't stand a chance. This won't end with me sleeping in the best bed I've ever slept in, unless one counts a crude grave as “the best bed one can ever sleep in.” I run deeper into the jungle. It's dark, all of the Sun's light being blocked off by the canopy above. I can barely see. All I can make out are the tree trunks ahead. My body's losing power. Even Superman goes down after a while. Getting tired. Can't run. Need...to..slow down. I collapse. It's over, I can't go on. My captor has me. Except he doesn't. I hear no sound. But I do notice something. A glint of light up ahead. Could it be him with a flashlight? I wait, lowering the sound of my breathing as I do so. My chest hurts, my lungs feel punctured. But this is life or death, and I can't lose. The light doesn't move. It's a set source. Could it be salvation? It's either try or die in this situation. I vote try. After five minutes, I pick myself up and walk towards the light into a lush, green meadow. The trees decided to let light shine through in this area, and for the better. The circular area is skirted by beautiful trees, their leaves turning the light into a dazzling lightning green. There's the outlying darkness, but it contrasts so well with the green that it adds to the picture. And in the middle of it all is something beautiful: a large plant, red and laced with white flowers. It beckons to me. It calls to me. Come, rest, take a break. He'll never find you here. You deserve this. My body's too tired to let my resolve control it. Without any hint of doubt, I walk over and plop down into the plant's cushiony, sofa-y middle. Then it begins. The petals rise up and trap me inside. I struggle to get out, but to no avail; I'm trapped. Stuck. Liquid starts rising, smelling terrible. Some form of digestive juice. Years of science have taught me that. But they didn't teach me to watch out for suspiciously placed plants. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster. I expected better of a highly regarded scientist. You almost gave me a good hunt. Almost. Alas, it's sad it ended this way. Good bye.” I'll never sleep in the best of beds. Unless if a plant's belly is the best of beds. Granted, it is pretty soft.