She was sitting quietly at roadside with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle when I chanced upon her.
So silent was her repose that I had no warning of her presence until it was too late to turn back.
Without even a hello she gazed through my eyes and said: “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?”
I wondered what gods she believed in. I knew that no matter the answer I gave, I would be wrong.
My answer was silence. The space between us echoed with my answer’s absence.
“What a disappointing answer,” she muttered, almost to herself, grabbing and devouring me in one bite.
I never got the chance to gloat when a second later I realized that my answer had been correct.
At DVerse, the prompt today is to write a piece of flash fiction or other prose up of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line of poetry:
“Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart– Rainer Maria Rilke
which safely exists in the center of all things?