Prompt: In 250 words, write from the point of view of a ball of yarn being chased by a cat.
Response: The Hunt
The sun streaked through the window in lovely long beams. I thought I might doze off - the steady clicking of Leah's knitting needles above me providing a lullaby.
Leah's voice broke the silence as I felt a tug. "Oops."
I plummeted to the ground, instantly awake. I hit the threadbare carpet with a jarring jolt of pain. I frantically surveyed the room. I had landed in the puddle of shadow cast by Leah, but as I felt another tug unravel my body I rolled into the sun, into the open.
Then I felt it - the thudding of paws that meant Emmett was on the prowl. I stayed stock-still. I prayed he would not notice me laying there. And then Leah gave another tug.
The evil, inquisitive eyes leered into me and I quailed. Emmett cocked his head and I hoped against hope that Leah had enough yarn.
As I rolled again Emmett's face took on a feral quality. He pounced.
If I had had a mouth with which to scream, I would have. His claws delved deep and I felt I would break open, spilling onto the floor in a vicious unraveling.
Another tug sent me careening across the old carpet and Emmett followed, his teeth and claws never letting me get too far away.
I heard Leah hiss at the cat and try to pull me away, but he was enthralled in the hunt. To me, Leah spoke only one phrase - one discomforting mantra. "Emmett," she scolded stiffly. "Don't play with your food."