Litlets

July 2, 2007

The Stalker

Filed under: Litlets,Prose — crcb @ 3:38 pm

As I sleep, or ride the bus to work, or wander the shops that make this nation great and look at little boxes with green lights and black switches, or play cards with my daughter, a hungry beast stalks me. It caught my scent at birth — earlier, in the womb. I’ve escaped its jaws once or twice: in a river, when it clamped my leg and tried to hold me under; on an inner city street, when we stood nose to nose and I looked into its crazed eyes. It blinked and slunk back into the shadows, but I haven’t forgotten it’s there. It will never give up or go away, and one day it will catch me. It might take me by surprise, or I might hear it coming and find myself in a blind alley, escape impossible.

What am I, then? A baby rabbit, neck broken, body stiff, found at sunrise on the back porch.

Advertisements

Leave a Comment »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: