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 Drop Bears - a short story

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MARIE ANTOINETTE.
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Posts : 25
Join date : 2010-03-25

PostSubject: Drop Bears - a short story   Fri Mar 26, 2010 6:16 am

Drop bears are giant fierce koalas that live in trees. They gain their name from the fact that they drop on their pray. I've had a classmate be victim to a drop bear during my year 4 camp. I wrote this story last year for a bit of fun.

I could hear their claws, scratching against the bark of the trees above me. I had forgotten to apply Vegemite before going for a midnight bushwalk, heaven forbid. Was it really necessary for me to go alone? In the dark? With only a flashlight for protection?

No, probably not.

If there was not the danger of having a drop bear falling from the trees above me, maybe I would not have been so scared. The bitter cold breeze made my neck hairs stand on end. My dark malachite eyes scanned the surrounding forest areas, careful not to miss the slightest movement. I could feel the claws brushing against my throat. I sensed the fur of the carnivore against my back. I brushed my dark hair out of my face nervously. I desperately wanted to turn back, but the idea of turning around seemed hideously terrifying, as if the bear would fall on me mid-turn.

I quickened my pace, tripping over tree branches more often now that I wasn’t paying attention to my path. I held my hand in front of my face. My nose felt no warmer than a block of ice. The night air was chilling me...even my ears could feel the effects of the winter breeze.

Still, I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t turn back. Most of all – I couldn’t die. I couldn’t die. I couldn’t die. What would my family think if they saw my blood stained corpse? Would my insides cover the bush floor, or would the drop bear make off with them? The idea of providing nourishment to that creature or its young ones disgusted me.

I shuddered, trying to change the subject of my thoughts immediately. It didn’t work. My thoughts kept going back to what was causing the new subject in the first place. Suddenly it felt colder. I wanted to sit down and rest, but I couldn’t. I wanted to teleport back to my family, but I couldn’t. Why did fantasy not exist in the direst of times?

I quickened my pace.

Suddenly, I was jogging. The air was cold, I was uncomfortable. Sweat covered my brow after a kilometre. At least, I think that it was a kilometre. I saw a tree root, but it was too late – I’d fallen. My flashlight hit the ground beside me with a thud. It was dark. Worse, I had scraped my knee and it was bleeding. It’ll be sure to find me now, I shuddered. It could smell my fresh blood. And I’ll have to walk slowly too, so that I won’t get lost.

I pulled myself off of the ground, and winced as I straighten out my leg. I didn’t have the time to get used to walking with a stinging leg. Hobbling along the rocky terrain of the bush is a noble pursuit, I tell myself. It isn’t easy – there’s every chance that I could fall over and crack my head open at any moment. I could feel a warm, bubbling sensation fill the back of my throat. I breathed in, but it doesn’t hold back the sob that spills from my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and wiped away the tears with the back of my hand. My mission is hopeless, I told myself. They will come. They will smell my fresh blood; they will sense that I am alone; they will drop.

I brushed my hand against something. I flinched back hard, but on closer inspection, I saw that it was merely a thick stick, probably one of the smaller branches that had fallen off of a tree due to the weight of the drop bear that it was supporting. I smiled manically, stroking the stick absently.

They will drop...I will be ready.
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