It’s hard to find a corner in a teepee, that’s what mother used to say. What she meant was it’s no use looking, for something that simply isn’t there.
But it was there. She had smelled its fetid breath, as it lowered its cumbersome core upon her, filling her with its icy countenance, making it impossible for her to scream.
It had been there. And the obtuse distention in her belly made her sure- it would be back.
As she crouched silently, clutching a honed teak stake borrowed from Grandpa’s old Adirondack chair, she knew- this time she’d be ready.
Word Count: 100
Written for Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt.