The Lost Yeti

5 minute story


He lay on his side in the cage, his back to the bars. What appeared to be his large hairy head was tucked into his long hairy arms.
From a distance, or even close up, there was just one word that eveyone used to describe him, "hairy." Somehow this had even become his name in the enclosure. They had even taught him to respond to it.
Today the sun scorched through the bars and tried to warm his chilly form. He was so still, hairy and still, but to his captors this was no different to any other day.
To Hairy it wasn't. It was his one hundred and third birthday. Also it was the last day he drew breath, for everyone of yeti birth knows, one hundred and three is the day you became a lost yeti.