Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The Old Lion

The old lion raised his great head with its imposing mane and looked about him. He sensed the end was near and he lowered his head once more. With closed eyes he saw patchy remembered images, the waterhole, his first kill and then….that night. The night of the presence. With more clarity now he remembered; that figure, not quite a human and yet… no… it was much more than that. A powerful being. A presence that commanded obedience. All the lions crouched there, afraid of the unknown, unable to move. None of them ate that night, it was as if their jaws had been clamped shut.
The old lion’s breathing became more shallow and as life faded he drifted on from the night of the presence and remembered with great pleasure the feast that followed.

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