Chicken thief. You gut our white hen, eat choice pieces, leave her belly up for the owls and maggots. Emboldened, you sneak back a second night, climb the fence, find the coop locked. So you steal cat food, scavenge compost, sleep in the barn. Oblivious to the box trap, waiting.
Shirlee Jellum is a retired English teacher who publishes fiction, nonfiction and poetry, most recently in Persimmon Tree, Quarter(ly) Journal, WordPeace and several anthologies.
A raccoon, a wolf, and a bighorn sheep sat down for a cup of tea.
The kettle burned out, which made the wolf shout, “Woe, I say, woe unto me!”
Catastrophe brewed: the tea-less wolf stewed. (He was addicted, you see).
The raccoon knew kung-fu. Don’t ask about the sheep.
This story was inspired by a prompt from @Aeric90, who responded to a request for three mammals with wolf, raccoon, and bighorn sheep.
Slithering, sliding, slipping… Rory the ravenous raccoon eased his way through the gap under the newly painted fence with a patience that belied his urgency.
There! He was through, and scampering into the safety of the woods.
They found Elvis dead that morning. The orange paw prints were never reported.
This story was based on a prompt from @MisterFiendZero.