by Joshua Minso
The birds swoop low, eyeing their next meal sprawled out on the desert floor; their caws signaling to the others that it is time to eat. They must hurry before the larger scavengers find the prize and they are evicted from the sandy restaurant. A massive black vulture, likely the leader of their makeshift pack, perches itself on a small rock near the head; the eyes belong to the leader and the other birds seem to understand this as they position themselves around the body. Razor talons rip through flesh as sharp beaks dig savagely into the meat. A scream attempts to make its way out of the body’s throat, but the desert sun has dried up the vocals cords; only the sounds of flesh being devoured are evident. The beak of the leader plunging into the eyes is the last thing the body, a lost hiker on an adventure, will ever see.
Joshua Minso is new to the world of fiction and is enjoying the ride. He's starting to blog here.