The Casual Savage


Sharks pursue, clinching their fangs for the kill. With a blood filled grin, as the mean from the bones rushes in between. They don’t possess desperation, its more of a quiet dissection of the meal that is losing its will to survive with every passing moment. The water pushes again him, as he fights ever so intently to track beneath him. His lungs fill with air, but burn from the exhaustion of the struggle. The winds hit his face, intently gaining the upper hand. Pushing and ladling him with the realization of expiration. He pears from under him, as the savage watches and awaits.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger


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