When I woke up, I was starving. That’s always a bad sign. My stomach rumbles when I’m hungry, and in my case, that attracts attention. On the plus side, that used to always mean that someone came and fed me, fast. Lately, no one seems to care about feeding me before I get hungry enough to cause trouble.
That’s bad. My stomach just growled, and my whole body shook. I can feel them running all over, trying to get away. Don’t they realize if they’d just chuck a couple of human sacrifices down my mouth I’d go back to sleep?
Author bio: Elizabeth Archer writes flash fiction and poetry, and is working on a novel.
Breakfast is part of 101 Fiction issue 3.
Images of hapless natives being tossed into a steaming orifice to calm the living volcanic beings hunger... Never seen it from his/her point of view before :) wonderful!
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