Swine Flew

by Luc Reid

Shrieking, the hog plummeted toward the earth, its wings drawn close. At the last moment it flared them like a great cloak, choking its forward speed to little more than hovering as it tore its prey from the grass. The helpless victim mewled as the hog bore it into the sky, but like all hogs, this one had no pity for the scurrying denizens of the dirt and the grass. It bore its twitching meal to a cliffside, where it alighted and summarily snapped the furry thing’s neck before tearing into it with its sharp–


Readers, please excuse me. I’m very sorry to interrupt the story like this, but apparently there’s something that’s so important …

Oh … seriously? I was sure it … but really? Then OK, I guess.

No, it’s entirely my fault. I’m the writer. Really, I appreciate the feedback.

Readers, I’m back now. Very sorry about that. And in the above, um, the word “hog” should read “hawk.”

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