Poached

Friday is upon us again, and that can only mean one thing: a fresh batch of stories from writers all around the world. As always, my drabble was inspired by the photo prompt from Madison Woods and I thank her for offering it it.

I struggled a bit with this story. The idea was there, but the words weren’t. I just sat down and start writing random garbage before the words eventually came to me. I hope they were the correct ones.

Comments, criticism, and half drunken rants, as always, are acceptable. And what better week for a half drunken rant?

Poached

The sign said Do Not Enter!

Janet assumed it served as a subtle defense against those who would poach the succulent grapes from the vine. They looked so delicious, so tempting. They whispered her name and she heeded their call.

Half a dozen steps beyond the low fence, the vines began shifting and slithered across the ground toward her. Dumbfounded, she watched as they snaked around her ankles. They tugged her to the ground and dragged her deep into the grove.

Nearly a full day later, her throat raw from screaming for help that never came, she prayed for death.

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