Friday, May 18, 2012
This Time Next Week
At the cliff’s edge, I stopped and listened to the steady lap of the waves against the rocks. I sucked cold air deep into my lungs. Night sounds surrounded me. A purr of contentment rose in my throat. I was getting used to the purr. It’s a great way to express pleasure.
I pivoted toward the house and saw my aunt silhouetted in the window. I lifted my hand. She waved back.
The wind shifted. I smelled a rabbit. My butt twitched. The perfume of warm flesh filled my nostrils. His rapid heartbeat pulsed through my ears. I forgot about Aunt and went bounding into the forest.
The rabbit saw me. With a frightened squeak, he hopped away, his little powder-puff tail white in the dark. I leapt after him and laughed with exuberance from the sheer joy of being alive.
The rabbit ran deep into the woods. I followed. Fear gave the bunny speed. He stayed just out of my grasp.
It happened gradually. My joints stiffened. The hair on the nape of my neck rose. A horrific scent filled my nostrils. My stomach flopped. No longer the hunter, at some point, I’d become the prey.