The Nicolson Institute: Jennet McNinch



Black Panther

I stood there frozen, watching it with close precision.
The elegant black figure moved slyly in the forest trees.
Its eyes, gleamed with a cunning plan that was sure to fail,
focused only on me and my glistening white figure.

It seemed a long time later when it reached the edge of the clearing.
It hesitated there for a while, not sure what to make of me.
The sleek black fur, silky smooth like satin, ruffled in the gentle breeze.
I could smell it then; the pumping blood, coursing through its strong body.

It could sense no fear in me, like most of its other prey, for there wasn't any.
I was tired of waiting so I snarled, provoking it.
It let out a tremendous roar, showing a set of razor sharp teeth,
and it broke into a graceful sprint, paws thudding towards me.

I watched its lithe movements, made by the strong muscles
prominent against its skin.
I crouched down and bared my teeth as it narrowed the gap between us.
It pounced, going in for the obvious kill.

I pushed my hands against the rough padded paws that met them and pinned it to the ground.
It snarled viciously at me while I pondered where to sink my teeth in.
I tasted the sweet blood on my tongue, the hot sticky liquid.
It swam down my throat, soothing the agonizing pain that never left there.

I left its bone dry body there in the centre of the clearing.
I got up in one quick immortal movement and brushed my self down.
I gazed up at the twilight sky that hovered over the forest,
then back at the panther. It should have known better.

by Jennet McNinch