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#Post#: 16574--------------------------------------------------
Never Underestimate
By: Spotteh Date: August 4, 2013, 10:04 pm
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[center][Size=16pt][font=harmond]Prologue[/font][/size][/center]
Someone once told me that rabbits were viewed as peaceful. As
weak. That creatures known as humans once viewed them as pets,
for they were cute and harmless, and coddled them. They were
referred to as 'bunnies' because they were so cute and helpless.
Rabbits were viewed as nothing more than innocent prey, meant
for eating. That rabbits were thought to have no power and
because of that, other animals could do whatever they pleased.
That rabbits were cowards and the cruelest insult was to be
called a rabbit. Though they were fast, it was only an
overwhelming sense of fear and desperation that drove them.
Someone told me rabbits were raised as food, because they were
docile, breed quickly, and, most importantly, were easy to
control. Would you like to know my answer?
"Those creatures were fools."
[hr]
Now this is from an idea I've had for a while. I can promise
you, once I'm done with this, you will never look at a bunny the
same way again. Never underestimate. You're free to leave
comments if you'd like, just dont spam.
#Post#: 16579--------------------------------------------------
Re: Never Underestimate
By: puddincat Date: August 4, 2013, 11:10 pm
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track, this looks interesting
#Post#: 16670--------------------------------------------------
Re: Never Underestimate
By: dawnfire111 Date: August 5, 2013, 8:07 pm
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/is already sucked in/
i can't wait for more! 8D
#Post#: 16721--------------------------------------------------
Re: Never Underestimate
By: Spotteh Date: August 6, 2013, 12:06 am
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[center][font=harmond]Chapter 1[/font][/center]
Our kind has always followed the same traditions. As if a
methodical schedule was written in our minds for us to follow.
Each morning was spent on the surface, eating as much as we
could before it was no longer safe. The days were spent in the
tunnels, just high enough to enjoy the warmth soaking into the
ground, or just far enough away to avoid the biting sting of
frost and snow. Then when dusk fell, we returned to the surface
for another meal. And then it began.
Each night, the lower tunnels filled with small bodies. Each
belonged to a family. And each family was forever locked in a
battle for territory, for honor. For survival. Some families
were new, nothing more than a few generations, fighting for a
place in this world. Others had been there since the dawn of
time. The Arnab Bari family was one of these. Each night when
the moon rose, we fought beneath the ground, blanketed in the
darkness and silence the tunnels could provide. Our only truth
was the unexcapable stench of blood and the sound of pain.
Each morning was a blessing. A celebration. You had survived.
And each night was the end. If not of your life, then of
something else. Each night in the tunnels, something was chipped
away and would never return. Our lives were short, shorte still
with the fighting, and the elderly were revered as much as they
were hated. This world we knew had no place for the weak. The
weak died. You're only option was to be strong. And yet...
Through all the years. Through all the blood shed and fighting,
no one ever thought of change.
I can remember the day I was named, though I barely remember
what that name was. It was my first glimps of the world. The
world I knew at least. As per tradition, none of us were named.
We were merely numbers. We would receive our names after our
first trip to the surface. If we survived.
The surface was amazing. The sun was blinding, but we could have
stood there and stared at it for hours. If our mother hadn't
pushed us forward, we very well might have. The entire world
glowed with life and color for the first time of in our lives. I
can't remember a time I was happier. My siblings and I ran
through the tall grass. It was a color I would later identify as
green. We took turns describing ourselves to each other, though
it wasn't much use as well looked very similar. One of my
sisters had darker fur than the rest of us, something that was
rather fitting as she also had a darker nature. As for myself, I
was a bit more unique, but not outstandingly so. Rather than my
sibling's mud brown eyes, mine were blue, or so they told me. My
dark sister tried to play it down but the others said they were
the color of the sky. I could see the jealousy burning in my
sisters eyes as they told me this. I also had a birth mark, I
suppose you could say. Four pure white dots sat near my rear. I
could see them for myself if I turned just right. Those spots
fascinated us, even my dark sister. White was as new to us as
everything else, but we couldn't understand how the glowing
white from the sky was also on me. We couldn't help but wonder
if this made me special. Our mother only said that it made me a
target. We spent the time playing, chewing, and eating whatever
we came across. Did green taste the same as blue? And what about
brown? Did it taste the same as the black of the tunnels? We
even bit each other, just to see. We decided rabbit didn't taste
good. We wove through the looming shafts, but kept a safe
distance to our mother if anything went wrong. We rolled through
mud and water and grass and returned to our mother looking like
some sort of tiny twig monsters. Then we had to lick ourselves
clean. That wasn't as fun. Through all our joy, we never noticed
the long orange shape moving towards us.
Our mother froze. Not knowing what else to do, we did as well.
Silence fell across this new world of ours. Silence and a deep
rooted sense of something wrong. The animal waited us out. Our
mother relaxed once more and so did we. But now she knew
something was here. She began ushering us towards the tunnel
entrance. But this world of light and color and sound had
trapped us. We did not want to go. We only wanted the freedom of
the surface. Each of us hopped the wrong way, as though we had
forgotten and were trying to find it before anyone else. And
then it came back. That horrible feeling came back. My sister
was the first one to react, and froze. We quickly followed suite
but she couldn't do it. She had the instinct, but she didn't
have the practice or stamina to stay that way. She moved too
early. While the rest of us were watching our mother for her
signal, our sister had her rear towards us and could not see. So
she turned her head. That's when it jumped.
The orange lunged forward and we scattered in fear. Our mother
seemed to know what to do but we didn't. The fear raged through
our minds, clotting out anything of sense or even instinct. But
gradually we made it into the tunnel. Almost all of us at least.
As I shot down the tunnel, I saw my sister rip her hind leg from
the mouth of the beast. It must have been her swift instincts
that saved her from immediate death. She thrashed through the
tunnel mere seconds after I had entered. Her speed was
incredible, as well as her demise. In her panic, she ran head
first into the tunnel bend. All I heard was a crack. And then
nothing. The orange had not followed us and the sudden silence
was deafening. Our mother shoved passed us to get to my sister.
She leaned down and at first I thought she would pick her up.
Until she bit too far and the scent of blood filled the small
area.
My siblings stood frozen, too shocked to do much else. I did not
have this hesitation. I ran to my mother. I begged her, I
pleaded, for her to stop. I cried that our sister wasn't dead.
She had only hit her head and was sleeping. That she would wake
up any second now. If only my mother would stop. Each second was
sickening and that sound etched itself into my skull. I can
still count how many bites it took until my sister was nothing
until bone. When that had happened, I did the only thing I could
think of. I threw myself at my mother, calling her a murderer, a
carnivor, a cannabel. She threw me off and pinned me down.
"I have honored your sisters death." She hummed. "You should
have done the same." I could still smell my sisters blood on her
breath. I wanted to throw up. She got off and waited for me to
get up before lining the three of us up. We were getting our
names. My dark furred sister became Monkshood. My brother was
named Cauliflower. As for myself, I was named Clover. For those
four white dots.
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