hiding - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There are still cars of course, it’s just that without the gas they sit redundant on the side of the street; great for cover, but that cuts both ways. They’ll hide you or your enemy just the same.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
They didn't just have to hide from the men, they had to hide from the dogs too. The icy water poured into their sneakers as they waded up the wide, rocky stream bed in silence. Then when they got to a thick bough that overhung the water they heaved themselves into it and climbed until they were hidden by leaves. They could stay here until the fall if only they didn't need to eat or drink.
They rubbed the pungent mud on their faces and hands. Then they climbed into a natural hollow in the ground and pulled over themselves the leaves and sticks they had piled up. When they were finished they would be perfectly hidden until daylight broke again, and even then they would be pretty hard to spot.
He lay on his back in the stagnant pool, disguised by the dark mud that he had disturbed. In his mouth he held a hollow reed to breath through and he lay there as still as a corpse.
The girls turned the corner and ran down the streetlamp lit avenue. The car would have doubled back by now and they would be visible if they kept running. Alicia noticed that a backyard fence had a rectangular indent and she pulled Sophie into it. There they stood, hearts in their mouths, as still as statues for what seemed like an hour.
I am a strand of wheat in the vastness of the prairies. My colours are as muted as those around me, allowing me to hide in plain sight. With my primate brain I can only ever truly love the friends and family in my small circle, that's just the way we're wired. Yet I still hurt to hear of pain around the world, empathy does not allow me to switch off. I want to reach out, to heal, to bring light where there is dark. But I am a herd animal at heart - just a strand of wheat in the vastness of the prairies and however feeble or shallow my roots are, I need them.
The ants flowed around Sarah's foot like water at first but in minutes they were splashing over her shoes and heading toward her stockinged legs. They were nothing like the harmless black ones of home either. By comparison they were weaponized, armour plated with large sharp mandibles and robotic legs. They moved almost too quickly to be tracked and took offence with everything around them, including Sarah. Normally she would have run some time ago, but Tom was out there, searching, listening. One movement, one scream, one involuntary gasp and it was all over. She felt the sting of the ants through the nylon and they weren't stopping at her ankles. Her mind was on fire but she kept her limbs still until they reached her face, attacking her eyes, ears and lips. In seconds the air was rent with her scream, she ran, increasingly blinded deeper into the jungle. But in minutes warm hands were restraining her...Tom...
After some hours of crouching in the dark it occurred to Gina that she'd never truly been thirsty before. Drinks had always arrived before she knew she wanted one. They were sparkling, cool and flavoured, the ice jangled and enticed her to drink. Never once had she drank to quench her discomfort. But now just plain water would be a God-send. The urge to drink dominated her thoughts. She should stay hidden, Mac was out there, but the sensation was quite unbearable. She slunk out from behind the beer barrels and removed her heels. This was not a time for noise, even if it meant dirtying her baby-soft feet.
They hid, quaking and sweating with fear as the Nazi boots creaked the floor boards over head. As the children huddled with their father, the mother held her hand clamped over the baby's mouth. Tears streamed silently down her face as the baby turned blue and then limp.