One Terrible Night...

Eyes glinting in the darkness, fur as black as the night itself, this creature of the shadows embodies the fear of those around. Swift and silent, it creeps up the steps towards it's unsuspecting prey. Only moments later, screams could be heard by the whole neighborhood. But wait, these are not cries of terror or pain, these noises take the form of a well-known chant, heard only in this gruesome time of year...

Trick or treat! Then the masked figure moves away, satisfied with the treasures he has found, back down the street to feast upon his victims' bounty. I knew a gorilla would make a good costume!

A Day in the Life of a Carnivore

Another something I found while ruffling through my papers.

He padded along on the soft forest floor, silent as could be. Not making any noise was pretty much his best bet at catching something to eat. He hadn't eaten since his pack abandoned him in the tundra. Something about him "not helping the pack" and "too small to do any good", but there was no time for bitter feelings. He had wandered south to escape the harsh cold, and had arrived at a huge forest of pine trees in northern Canada.
Suddenly, he heard something off to his left, a rabbit grooming itself in front of a fallen tree. He immediately got lower, hiding in the sparse grass of pine-needle covered soil. Then, he sprang forward, eyes on his prey, feeling nothing but adrenaline and pure instinct, all his senses were on overload. Even so, the succulent animal bounded into a hidden home under the tree. Gone, the sad canine realized. The wolf's stomach rumbled painfully. If he didn't find some kind of sustenance soon, he would surely die.
Later in the evening, when the sun was nearing the horizon, he came across the carcass of a deer. It wasn't nearly fresh, but it wasn't picked clean either. Maybe there was a meal in there for our needing adventurer. The killer had obviously eaten his fill and left the rest for scavengers. The wolf never liked scavenging, but in dire times the ability to eat rotten meat was a gift indeed. He would stay alive for a while longer, at least. As he ate, one could say that they could see a grin on this wolf's muzzle.

The Tree

I wrote this a while ago, found it in my binder.

Stories tell of a most amazing pine tree. It's branches emerged from it's healthily large trunk in a perfect spherical fashion. There was not a spot of discoloration on it's beautifully thick nest of needles. It smelled of the most intricate and layered fragrance that pleased the nose in wonderful ways. It grew on a perfect snow-covered hill, with not a single member of it's brethren for a mile around. It stood tall and proud, like a monument embodying the true spirit of winter. All the animals of the plains stood in awe at this magnificent being. The humans, for the most part, knew not of it's existence, and those who did kept it as a most cherished secret. It is said that it is a thousand years old, that it was born on the winter solstice during a frightfully cold winter. Somehow it survived the tempest of snow and wind, year after year, flourishing and one day achieving the grandeur of it's current state. They say it is still standing today, and that is is blessed so that it may never perish by fire, age or axe.