The vultures attack

A story about when vultures reign terror across the land


1. The day it happened

An evil screech cascading through the lively valley, causing people to drop things and run a round in sheer terror and dismay, it was that loud. An overwhelming darkness circling it's prey like a cheetahs does to a dear. An underlying feeling of death and despair settling upon all the vultures frightened food. Claws of steel murdering the unsuspecting civilians, ripping them to shreds. Mangled flesh being dropped in their path of quaking destruction and terror. Blood slowly dripping from there razor sharp beaks, every drip, drip, drip, someone else falls victim to these ruthless creatures. Pools of blood forming on the ground from every carcass being hoisted up by naught pink talons of the vultures, the victim having slowly falling of the bone skin and weak sagging muscles, with claw marks edged into them. Obviously starved, majestic in the way they hunt in flocks, creatures who circle their fleshy prey. They are now the hunters and the humans are the hunted. Bald heads, Brown winged machines of death, thirsty for the blood of victims, but unfortunately they are not vampires or else they would just ward them off with garlic. No, they are just emotioneless, carnivorous, scary but clever and wise scavengers who feast on their prey by waiting in the night. Waiting for its prey to tire themselves out. Then the forms of these beasts started to flicker, they were just holographic mechanisms of death moving from place to place, looking for new prey, who knows they might be around your corner.


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