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Run, rabbits run!
Janey had tossed and turned in the crushing mid-summer heat
of that night and in her flickering, surrealistic dream, a long-haired
and smiling man, a veritable giant of a man, had been gently reassuring
her as she'd heard a strange and distinctive sound. What was that
sound? Was it a rifle being cocked? Then suddenly she and Rose
were running, bursting through the forest, running until their
legs ached and their lungs felt as if they would burst. Someone
was shouting 'run, rabbits run!' and as they ran, huge feet had
come crashing after them through the trees and they were running,
falling, rolling, groping through the darkness of the forest,
rising and running again
..and then Janey had woken up in
a cold sweat. She had told Rose of her terrifying dream and Rose
had seemed momentarily disturbed but the distraction and excitement
of their holiday was paramount and the dream was soon forgotten.
They had only known their charming guide for a few hours when he'd told them how much he loved hunting and shown them his two treasured hunting rifles in the trunk of his car. On the fifth day of their holiday he'd suggested taking them to a town, three hours away for some sightseeing and the ladies had enthusiastically and readily agreed. He was such a gentle giant, such a kind and witty, well informed man. Neither of them had thought anything of their wonderful guide pulling the car over into a little clearing in the forest for a rest and some refreshments. Hopping out of the car with a reassuring smile and wink, he opened the trunk and it was then that Janey had heard the distinctive click and the ominous words 'run, rabbits run !'
© Jane C. Solomon
August 22, 2011
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