So this is a creative writing piece I wrote for English Literature I had to write, my stimulus was A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. I liked my short story so I thought I'd share it
It's called 'The Hunter' by the way and this is it....
As soon as I notice the obscure figure protruding from the vast recesses of the cold, murky alleyway, I realise the error in my judgment. I knew that taking this detour down this secluded part of town would be somewhat inauspicious, particularly in this day and age. The rapping of my shoes mimics the rhythm of my heart: fast, timid and extremely apprehensive. The sound reverberates off the walls of my now stone cage, making my presence increasingly conspicuous. The figure turns slightly. I can almost sense the look of satisfaction on its face, the slight smirk turning into a full-blown grimace of a smile, that instant moment in which the figure turns into hunter and I, its prey.
The figure steps towards me, slow, merciless, toying with its prey. I feel hostile; my mouth is dry, my legs still. My ineptitude frustrates me no end. Sweat trickles from the strands of my hair dripping into my eyes, stinging them with its salty tang, drying them out. The virulent silhouette stops, cocking its head to the side, surveying me. It licks its lips with its forklike tongue; its mane falls over its forehead, hiding those fiendish eyes. The figure took a step forward into the light; the only element aiding me at this distressing time. I flinch backwards, head against the stone cold wall. Pain fires through my veins like shooting stars. The figure smiles at this. It likes my pain. It cackles; cruel and unyielding. I breathe in deeply.
The figure leans back and I see its face: harsh, frightening, and unmistakeably beautiful. Trepidation fills my inner body, threatening to burst out of me like a balloon being blown past its limit. The figure reaches its hand out to my neck, resting it there. It feels my gulp as it pushes me up against the wall.
"Are you afraid little man?" she sneers at me through lips painted blood red. I quiver under her strength.
She feels my sweat dripping onto her hand. She takes this as confirmation. She smiles at me, her grimace again baring her fangs at me. The pain in my head resides into dull panic, I feel slightly woozy. She lifts her head and I notice the red, bloodthirsty crystals of her eyes and I see in them my misfortune. She notices my stare and raises one sharp eyebrow.
"Why do you fear me?" she asks, her voice callously amused. She continues her taunt, "We are only doing to you what you have done to us for thousands of years."
Her grip tightens, and her teeth clench. Her shoulders are bare, so is the pale curve of her cleavage and beneath it her cold heart. This does not make me yearn for her. She has no warmth, no compassion. I cringe from her ferocious figure. I try to seize her hand but my efforts are futile as she swats away my arm casually like a troublesome fly.
Her hands caress my cheek; the stench of perfume emanating from her wrist is acrid, marring my senses; I cough in disgust. Her grin becomes feline, like a lioness closing in on a wounded animal. Her claws dig into my neck; I feel the warmth seep down my trouser leg. At this moment her body presses against me, threateningly. She feels it too for she stiffens and looks down at my lower body; this time her cackle is shrill and piercing.
"You poor incontinent little man. Are you impotent too?" She taunts me more and I feel ill, I am losing my breath and effectively my consciousness too.
She leans into me further and puts her lips to my ear, her breath cool, sending an instant shudder down my body.
"Tell me this. Are we all like this? Is that why you hate us? Because we over power you. And that means that we are all bad people? Tell me this. Had it ever crossed your mind that I may just be a woman, on my journey, just as you are? We want equality. Not oppression. Yet that is all you think of us." She drops her hand from my neck and I collapse on the ground, my legs incapable of supporting my weight, my whole body shaking with adrenalin.
I clutch at my throat, my lungs drinking the air greedily and the tears in my eyes fall as I look up to the figure.
But she is gone.
There is only me and my breath echoing unevenly against the stone walls.
As I sit and look around me, I consider her words