Sparkling Prize

Crawling, belly to the ground, eye on the prize.

A sparkling prize; sight and smell appealing, luring me towards it, begging to be touched.

Check once more; the coast is clear, it’s now or never.

Leaping out of shadows, grappling a prickly target, sending orbs smashing to the ground.

“Fluffy! Not the tree again!” 

Success.

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prize wins

Featured in the WDC Short Stories Newsletter

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