Going to Ground.

50 word story:

The raging of the hounds echoes behind me, the pounding of their footsteps is nothing compared to the heavy barrage of the horses hooves.

I squeeze myself into my burrow, safe from the snapping, salivating jaws of my pursuers.

Safe, until the machines come roaring. Silence. Shovels strike the earth.

7 thoughts on “Going to Ground.

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