The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Obvious Metaphor
A dream.
He stumbles through the dark, running in the sand and the bushes,
trying to escape. He can hear it chasing him, always an inch behind,
hot breath on his neck and the sharp teeth aim for his jugular and
miss by a hairbreadth. He's breathless, fire in his lungs and his
legs are about to fall under him and it will catch him, slash him and
drink the blood. He runs, faster and faster and the beast is always
behind him, never missing a step.
He sees a friend in the distance and shouts at him; to warn him off?
To ask for help? He doesn't know, but when he sees his friend's face
he can't run a single more step and he falls. The huge, dark lion
turns him over and he closes his eyes, afraid of the slaughter,
feeling the weight pressing on him and then a large, raspy feline
tongue licks the surface of his face fondly. He opens his eyes in shock.
And wakes up.