Writing Prompt #2 — The Unfamiliar

Prompts: While walking through the woods, you see a creature, unfamiliar to you, wounded. It begs for help.

I couldn’t understand what it said, but from the tears running down its face and its hand held out towards me, I assumed it needed some sort of help. I moved through the tall grass to it, then knelt down. It gripped its leg with both its hands, the muscles underneath its pale flesh tightened.

I looked down at its leg, then shook my head. What could I do to relieve it? It shouted again in its unknown language. It put its arms together and rocked them side to side. After a few moments, I understood. Wrapping my arm underneath its legs, and the other across its back, I stood up and turned towards where I came.

The creature continued to cry, sobbing uncontrollably about its leg. I wished it would’ve stopped, honestly I did. The leg was hardly broken, and more so, it was now being rescued; why cry further? But when I looked down at it, see its long blonde hair sticking to its damp wincing face, I realizing how weak it truly was, and vaguely understood its pain.

By the guidance of its pointing and hand motions, I finally managed to break out from the woods, to where the creature came from. The oak trees and thickets gave way to a grassy field that stretched for nearly a mile. There were wooden queer things randomly placed across the field that the creatures sat on. They all seemed to be consuming some kind of food, and drank some sort of liquid. The same foreign language the creature spoke in, they all spoke as well.

It pointed towards a group to the right, three other creatures sitting on a checkered clothe. I strode across the grass and set down the blonde-haired one.

They did not greet me with kindness, nor they did not thank for me for my service. Each one took out a strange square device that emitted a flash of blaring light. Over and over again, they shot me with the blinding light to the point that my vision became obscured.

Confusion intertwined with a rage I never felt before consumed me. I wanted to rip the squares from their tiny little hands and smash them against their egg-shaped heads; but at the same time, I wanted to escape, and put as much distance I could between them and I.

I choose the latter. I turned and ran across the field, back into the thick of the woods. Giant oak trees blurred passed me, thickets and underbrush flattened underneath my feet, chipmunks and squirrels darted away to my sides. At last, I returned to my cave, hunched over and went inside.

There I renewed my fire, sat down, and as my rage slowly subsided, thought about the creatures.

Weird they were, with two legs, two arms, hairless besides what was on their head and face; puny things, arms like sticks and legs seemingly useless. . . The strangest thing of all was that they had two eyes instead of one, and their hands each possessed five fingers, while it was normal to only possess two.

Read my previous prompt, Premature Sale.

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