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Trespasser |
| Written by August Blackwood | |
| Monday, 17 March 2008 | |
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Share it:       A young boy stood over a flower that danced in the wind. It was a beautiful flower, covered with pollen and sprinkled with raindrops. One wouldn’t have been able to tell that this flower was once a part of a larger field, for it stood on its own among a dusty plain. But, someone was joining the crowd. Yes, it was the boy. Who else would it have been? No, wait! There was another one. It was flapping, it was gasping, and it was dancing in the wind as well. It was a moth and it had landed on that one flower, amidst that dusty plain. The boy found it. He liked it. The moth was certainly not as beautiful as the flower, but that flower was quite suiting in color coordination with the moth’s wings, which were grey. The boy found his one true love. “Hello, my dear,” he said, leaning over the small insect. “What a pretty little thing you are.” But the moth hardly had any time to answer, for that very instant, the boy had found his toy. He lifted one of his only two legs and used its end to kill the other two things that lived there. Yes, they were nothing but things to him. But, no. He stopped halfway, placing his foot once again by his other. Instead, he used his stubby mound with five tentacles to reach down at the poor moth who shivered from fear. The boy snatched the bug and quickly extinguished it between his two fingers. And he lifted the now unrecognizable moth to an ivory-stone-decorated cavity, by which light could not enter. And all went dark, as pressure tore the poor creature apart, in a mass of slimy wetness and a voice that grunted from all directions.Copyright 2008 August Blackwood |
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