Category : Stories

Sub Category : Horror

 It was some race. The classic tale of the underdog prevailing. Mr. Tortois was both exhausted and running on fumes of adrenaline. Even though he did not overexurt himself like Mr. Hare did, The run was still taxing. Yet, the exhilaration of winning kept him at full awareness. Which was good, for the Hare wasn't done with his turtle friend.  

 Mr.Tortois starts cataloging today's events as he slow walked home. Pacing himself to be able to get there by morning. Carrying a smile, the turtle let his mind vacate the conscience level and focus on his daydreaming. The crowd cheering stuck on a loop, Mr.Hare's shocked expression on still frame, and the feel of the weight of the trophy as Mr.Tortois raises it on high. He was the center of the world for that brief moment.  

 Mr. Hare watched the turtle clop home. How could something so slow out race him? Mr.Hare had no problems keeping up to the turtle's pace as he stalked him. Mr.Tortois had to have cheated. There was more within that shell then that turtle's small frame. The rabbit had to know what's inside.

 Mr.Hare tightly gripped the kitchen axe he usually  kept in his backpack. Driven by the fancies of murder, the rabbit followed the turtle until they enter a narrow forest path. Mr.Hare stuck to the trees and bushes as Mr.Tortois struts down the path. The blood thirsty rabbit leaps through the air, comes down nearly hacking into the turtle's head. Mr.Tortois had quick reflexes and retracted his head within the shell. That was not enough to cause Mr.Hare to give up. He shoved the kitchen axe in after the turtle's head. There was plenty of satisfying squish noises, popping of flesh, and rivers of blood to please Mr.Hare. His determination to carve his way into the shell was obvious as he hacked away into the grooves. 

 After opening the shell, Mr.Hare hacked through the organs. There must be a secret inside. While scrapping through the last bits, hollowing out the shell. The rabbit began to wonder if the secret was the shell itself. 

That must be it! 

 The shell is the motor. With some adjustments and rigging, Mr.Hare fashions the shell on his back. The rabbit thought he could feel the power in the shell. With a grin upon his face, the rabbit became sure of his victories.  

 The day of the grand riverside race had come. The contestants lined up at the starting line. One space however was empty. Mr.Hare comes hopping up to his spot at start. The shell on his back appalled the crowd. Even the fans in the nosebleeds could tell that was Mr.Tortois's shell. The murder was apparent. Security took ten minutes to detain Mr.Hare, as he had seriously injured one of the guards by the end. Convicted of murder, Mr.hare ran in the prison races. None other could challenge him like Mr.Tortois had. Mr.Hare had murdered his way to the best.