Prey

Prey

He’d lurked in the culvert for hours in the desert heat. Monitoring traffic. Waiting.

Finally, a lone sedan trundled up the road, hugging the center line.

He crawled up the embankment, fixing a look of vulnerable desperation on his face.

The motorist would stop.

There would be blood.

He licked his lips in hungry anticipation.

 

Hope Sullivan McMickle.