Skip to main content

FIERY FRACAS ( DAY 14, LETTER F)


                           CHAPTER 13

                         FIERY FRACAS 

The brawl raged – fur flying, wood creaking, critters yelling. The pigs were outnumbered, but they weren't going down without a fight. Swinedell smashed a wooden chair, sending splinters flying. Porkinn kicked Chipper, sending him tumbling. Dapper somersaulted off a shelf, landing a series of rapid-fire nips on his scalp.

Goldwynn yanked Baconne's tail, spinning him into a bookshelf. Hopper grabbed Porrkinn holding him in a tight rabbit grip. "Yield, porkchop!" he growled.

Porrkinn grunted, his eyes glinting with malice as he cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through like a threat. His porcine features twisted into a cruel grin, flashing a missing tooth, a souvenir from a previous brawl. 

"You see, girl, we run things here," he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Like these pets." He snapped his fingers at the Chipper, Hopper, and Dapper, as they trembled in unison.

Swinedell lunged, grabbing the Chipmunk by the scruff, its tiny paws kicking wildly as it squeaked in terror.  Chipper's fluffy tail quivered with fear, and its eyes rolled wildly, searching for an escape. Swinedell’s grubby fingers dug deeper, making him whimper.

Baconne pinned Hopper to the floor, its ashen grey fur flattened beneath his meaty hands. "Hah! Gotcha, fluffball!" He chortled, his laughter bouncing through the den.

Dapper, sensing danger, folded itself into a ball, its eyes squeezed shut, tiny chest heaving with fear.

Goldwynn tensed, her eyes flashing with anger. "Hey! Let 'em go!" she growled, her fists clenched at her sides.

Porkinn laughed, a cold, mirthless sound, as he circled her. "Or what? You wanna play?" he taunted, his grin parading across his face "You're no match for the Three Little Pigs, girl!"

Goldwynn dodged his swinging fist, her hair flying as she countered with a swift kick to his gut. Dapper somersaulted off a shelf, landing with a soft thud on Baconne 's shoulders, his tiny claws digging in. Baconne howled, bucking like a bronco, but the squirrel hung on wildly mauling him.

Chipper darted between Porkinn 's legs, tripping him up. The young pig tumbled, his mohawk askew, as Hopper pinned him with a knee. "Gotcha!" the rabbit growled, his ears twitching.

Porkinn stumbled back, his eyes watering from Dapper's flurry of nips. Goldwyn seized the moment, grabbing a nearby wooden spoon and wielding it like a sword. 

The cottage trembled with the force of the brawl.

Baconne charged, his massive frame hurtling towards Goldwynn. She sidestepped, tripping him with a sweep of her leg. The big pig crashed into a bookshelf, sending heavy tomes tumbling.

Porkinn squirmed free from Hopper's grip, his face twisted in a snarl. He lunged at Chipper, but Dapper intercepted him, their paws flying in a whirlwind of fur and claws.

Hopper, cornered and frightened, bit down hard on Baconne’s leg, its teeth sinking into flesh. Baconne yowled in pain, releasing the bunny as it thumped its hind leg in distress.

Chipper, not to be outdone, scratched Swinedell's face, its claws leaving deep gnarls in their wake. Swinedell howled, releasing the Chipper who flew across the room, landing with a soft thud against a cookie jar, sending it whipping and the contents crashing to the floor.

Dapper, sensing an opportunity, uncurled, its eyes fixed on Porkinn. With a tiny squeak, it launched itself at the pig’s face, its claws jabbing wildly.

Porrkinn caught off guard, stumbled backward, momentarily blinded by the flurry of fur and claws. Goldwynn saw her chance and lunged, her fists flying as she aimed for the pigs. But they were too strong, too many. They swatted her down, pinning her to the floor.

To Be Continued...

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.

https://www.theblogchatter.com/blogrolls/fiery-fracas-day-14-letter-f


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

CHAPTER 1: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This post is Chapter 1 of short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes it anchors you like gripping oak roots. Every day for the next seven days, Xiu-Ying will welcome a new traveler seeking refuge from their heavy burdens, reading their futures in the settled leaves and guiding them toward peace as the seasons shift on the ridge. Welcome to The Jade Shambhala Tea House!                               CHAPTER 1                            EARLY SPRING  Ko-San Tê Bai Mudan (White Peony and Red Dates) The morning mist in the rolling hills of the 1980s Taiwanese countryside did not rise; it dissolved, burning away into thin silver threads under the persistent warmth of the early spring sun.  The Yun-Shan Ridge grew f...

CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

  As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day.  I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children.  The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here.  The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apar...

HIRAETH

Most rainy afternoons make me jog down memory lane, to the rhythm of the downpours that cascades down in sheets. And I slacken to the percussion of the raindrops tapping against my window pane. Flashes of memories of the halcyon days of the mid 1970’s come back to find me, to haunt me like mists hanging heavy and still. My only solace at this juncture are my vintage albums. The windows to the past and my very own time machine.  Mulling over the pictures, I pen her a tribute: Once upon a time, there was a time when photos were Black & White, Monochrome, Sepia But the trees in your backyard were a much Idyllic Green--Verdant, Jade, and Lime. The fire in your hearth, a sunset Orange--red-hot, Amber and glimmering as you stoked it. The skies, immensely boundless, a much Pristine Blue--Cornflower, Sapphire and Azure, As you pointed out to me the floating frothy clouds, the eagles gliding with their fanned out wings; Or the occasional lone airplane soaring dominantly, a tiny speck hi...

QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

                      CHAPTER 17             QUEST FOR THE BEARS  The next day, the pigs trotted off to spread mischief in the woodland, their ricky-ticky steps scuffing the damp path into a mess of overturned leaves and broken twigs. Goldwynn stayed crouched behind the wonky rain barrel until the sound of their pig-trouble thinned, then thinned again, then dissolved into the larger quiet of the trees. She didn’t move right away. The woods had a way of listening after the pigs left, as if it wasn’t sure they were truly gone. The air held its breath with her. When she finally stood, the silence felt heavier than noise. No birds called. The light came down in broken pieces, the sun playing hide-and-seek through beech and alder, dappling the forest floor with spools of pale gold. The ground under her boots was soft and cold, a black earth that smelled of truffles gone to rot and old rain. It stuck to ...

HILANG

  Chapter 2                Muay, the Maddening Scamp Seasons had gone by with vibrant autumns and chilling winters. Muay Thai had now  become very outgoing and social. On a full moon night, this newly transformed scamp  had bounded away on some nocturnal adventure.  I waited for her return for almost a week. As I searched high and low for Muay Thai, my heart raced with panic with every passing moment.  On one of my search treks, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. Lying on the ground, partially hidden by the underbrush on the curbside, was Muay Thai's collar. The vibrant fuchsia leather was faded and dirty, but the delicate zircon pendant still sparkled in the sunlight and that had caught my attention. Holding it gently in my hands, I examined it for any sign of what might have happened to Muay Thai. But there was nothing - no blood, dried or otherwise. Maybe, just maybe, Muay Thai was still out there, wait...