I've wanted to write this short story for a while now, and finally got it done today. It's little more than a tidbit, but I wanted to share it with you....
The mighty hunter took a gulp of
water and sighed, content with his day’s work. There would be much food on the
table that night; he’d made sure of that. Nothing could compare to the
satisfying feeling when the work was done, the food was cooking, and the home
grounds were secure.
But something nagged at his senses.
The hunter furrowed his brow and cocked his head. His senses were fine tuned
from years of hunting, and there was no denying the buzzing in his ear; something
was invading his hunting grounds.
The mighty hunter stood with a
snarl and surveyed his weapons. His prize tool hung in a special place on the
wall. Its handle gleamed, and its flat, flexible end promised impeccable
service. A ferocious grin spread on his face. The invading creature would not
know what hit it.
The hunter held his weapon with
practiced ease. His eyes darted about, searching for the invader. He calmed his
breathing and settled into the peaceful awareness of a predator hunting his
prey.
The hairs on the back of his neck
tingled, and he spun around. There, not three yards away, sat his prey. The
hunter stalked forward, careful not to disturb it. Had anyone been around, they
would have marveled at his meticulous stealth.
The creature before him remained
completely oblivious to the danger. It cleaned its appendages, arrogantly believing
itself safe, even on strange land. It hummed in peaceful satisfaction.
The mighty hunter closed the last
few inches between him and his prey in a blink of an eye. He brought his weapon
down with a snarl. The satisfying crunch of exoskeleton and guts assured the
hunter of his kill.
He lifted his weapon and cleaned
it, pleased with its effectiveness. A trap may have been easier, but it could
not have matched the satisfaction of crushing his prey with his own strength.
Sure, it was a bit… messy. But, thought
the hunter as he disposed of the remains, cleaning
up a trap would be messier.
The mighty hunter hung his weapon
with reverence and returned to his seat. He took another swig of water, still
reveling in his successful hunt. No creature could invade his hunting grounds
and get away with it.
He gazed at the flyswatter on the
wall, satisfied that, thanks to his hunting prowess, his house was blissfully
insect-free.
Inspired by my dad, a mighty hunter in his own right. His serious approach to insects, be it a fly in the kitchen at home or a bee in Grandma's dining room at Thanksgiving, is impressive. Illustration by me.

