| Excerpt:
She was nearly
dressed when she heard them. The vibration rattled the shiny Christmas
ornaments on her dressing table, making the glass ping harshly against the
table top.
No!
Her fingers
clasped the adamantine dragonfly encircling her neck, as terror quickened
her heartbeat. Chills raced down her limbs in spiky little arrays. That
sound—that horrifying, buzzing thunder—was one she recognized, deep inside.
The fear of them—and their appetites—had been bred into her through a
hundred generations.
Glynt ran.
Panicked, she fled the bedroom with its flimsy-looking glass and raced for
the balcony doors. They were thick fire doors—surely, they could resist the
impact?
Ten thousand
dragonfly wings…
The daylight
went. The thickness of the horde—the sheer mass—was blotting out the sun.
Desperate, near-petrified, she yanked the curtains closed.
The ramming slam
of ten thousand exoskeletonned bodies splintered the glass, but it didn’t
stop the beating—that horrific, mechanical swish of their wings. They were
driving themselves at the doors, at the glass, frenzied. Day sounds were
lost in the ceaseless roar of overlying wing beats.
In the bedroom,
the glass imploded. Shatters of refracted light caught her eye, as they
showered the door jamb.
As they blasted
through, onto the carpet.
I didn’t close
the door.
Her eyes widened
in horror, and she raced for the exit. She was nearly to the front door when
it began vibrating. They were in the hall, in hunting mode, and
desperate to get to her.
Hide.
Where?!
Frantic, she ran back to the curtained windows, in hopes of fooling Them.
She was out of her element, and hidey holes were nowhere to be found. She
cowered down, wrapped herself in curtain fabric, and scrunched into her
smallest form. Already, she knew it wouldn’t help—couldn’t help. They were
lured. Starving. Driven. Those multifaceted eyes would find her.
Ever hungry,
they’d hunt her…on the wing.
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