Hump Day Kick Start – Snarling Creature Edition

Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.

Last Halloween prompt of the month and it’s a doozy!

Set this up. Has there been a rash of disappearances in town? Pets missing or livestock mutilated? Scratching at the back door? Who is this creature after? Could a loved one have been bitten by a wild dog? Maybe this is the friendly neighborhood grocer by day who is a cursed hunter by night.  What if the family who just moved in is finding out the house is a portal to hell. Is this a mom/wife/girlfriend now severely upset about the sink full of dirty dishes?

What’s your take? I’d love to hear it. Or just caption the pic.

2 Responses to Hump Day Kick Start – Snarling Creature Edition

  1. jeff7salter says:

    “Honey, did you feed that stray yet?” asked Jane, rather casually, considering she was the one who’d found it — limp and semi-conscious — in their driveway late the previous night.
    Joe rolled his eyes. “I begged you not to bring that thing in here. But since you insisted, then it’s up to you to feed and water it.”
    “I can’t right now,” she replied. “I just did my toenails and they have to dry for 20 minutes.”
    “Well, your critter can wait that long,” said Joe. “By the way, why’d you put him in the cellar?”
    “That was his choice,” replied Jane. “I’d figured the garage would be fine, but before I could close the door, he zipped inside and went straight for the cellar stairs.”
    “Well, he sure is making a racket down there. What’s all that howling about?”
    “Not sure,” said Jane. “Maybe he’s one of those critters that bays at the moon.”
    “What moon?” asked Joe, looking out the window. “Oh, THAT moon. Gosh, that’s a big one. What do they call it?”
    “Harvest moon, maybe. Not sure. Does it matter?”
    “Not to me,” said Joe, “but your critter sure is yowling.”
    Jane scowled. “If you’re not going to feed him, at least go down and pet him or something. That howling is driving me nuts.”
    Joe went to the door, disgusted that he’d been roped into another pet rescue. “What kind of critter is this anyway?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorknob.
    “Not sure. It was pretty dark. Looked like a cross between a bob cat and a coyote.”
    “What? You brought a wild creature into our house?”
    “He was already here. I couldn’t get my car in the garage without moving him.”
    “Still — that thing, whatever it is, is wild. We can’t have it living inside.”
    “Okay, already,” she replied. “Ill take it to the pound tomorrow. But right now, either feed it or pet it, but get it to shut up.”
    When Joe opened the door, the innocent, bedraggled animal he’d briefly viewed late the previous night had transformed into something much different. Bigger, Meaner, Wilder.
    Harvest Moon.


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