Three footsteps and he stood silent, his leather boots no longer kicking up the dust.
He looked behind him and to his left. An over active imagination, tiredness, he shrugged, shook his head and continued walking past the out buildings and the well.
Then he heard it for the second time, perhaps a cat had fallen in and was crying out for help. Didn’t sound very much like a cat’s cry, he really didn’t have time this afternoon to save a cat, then again could he live with his conscience if he didn’t.
Kneeling down, he noticed how new the well wheel was, the cogs stood out sharp and crisp. He crouched momentarily admiring the craftsmanship.
He did not notice the long sinewy fingers that hooked onto the edge of the well pit or the deep crimson blood that dripped silently on to the clean brick steps.
He didn’t realise the strength that grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him in towards the darkness of the abyss or feel the blood spit from his mouth as its talons impaled his heart on his descent downwards.
Nor did he hear it purr with delight..
For Alastairs – Photo Fiction Prompt – Everyone is welcome 🙂 150 words or less. Thanks Alastair!