One Photograph, Two Points of View: Comparative Flash Fiction
The Tango of the Hunt by Kalla Monahan
The best time of night to stalk. Silent; I await the buzzing sound of wings on the subtle currents of air.
Hidden; awaiting my prey. Mayhap a mosquito with its iridescent wings, searching out a victim of its own. Flying in swarms, intensifying my chances of success.
Or a bee; the noble bee. Spreading the pollen of flowers around as it sucks the sweet nectar from deep inside its fragrant petals. The symbiosis of the hunter and the hunted; need, desire equal only to its clever function.
Nature is like that, coupling risk with reward all around us.
I hear it. The sound my senses have been waiting for, longing for. I’m hungry and I cannot wait any longer.
It’s a treat for me tonight. Its wings a myriad of colours; cobalt, gold, crimson, all fluttering in the soft glow of the evening. The soft push of its delicate wings signaling the start of our dance.
The tango of the hunt. My awareness is supreme. I alight, seeking reward for my patience.
It does not know I am stalking up behind it; fluttering through the descending darkness, it’s blind to everything but its enjoyment of the warm breeze, fragrant with honeysuckle and damp.
Slowly, I gain, my large eyes taking in everything around me, ultimately focused on my desire.
My large wings soundless in the encroaching darkness.
Mere moments until the attack. I can feel it along my body, electrifying the hairs covering me.
I quicken the beating of my wings. Up and down, they caress the air, my prey seeming to come closer.
Body buckling under the pressure.
Devouring its meal with a slow vigour reserved for such moments.
A reward for patience.
As the butterfly flutters away, the hunter becomes the hunted.
All Rights Reserved © 2012 Kalla Monahan
Odonates by Nina D’Arcangela
Beautiful creature of destruction; you are the embodiment of majesty and grandeur darting through the air; humming past in the blink of an eye, stunning your prey into a shock of paralytic fear; engaged always in aerial combat with the currents that fight you in your forward progress; rising, dropping, jerking, zipping.
What is it you seek on those elegant gossamer wings? Perhaps the next meal that awaits you… What else would a voracious living thing such as yourself desire? You, with your crushing mandibles and gnashing teeth, so willing to consume all that cross your path and thereafter, your gullet. A beast of miniscule proportion whose lust to sate itself knows no bounds – respects no boundaries.
The patter of rain does not deter you from the hunt – your need for nourishment is all consuming; it’s all your disjointed body knows. The repeated pumping of your clasping organ seeking purchase as it curves downward to secure a hold in this new and foreign terrain. Your legs spread so delicately, laid wide ever so gently, in this most opportunistic of places. Large bead like eyes of gleaming blackness adapted for spotting the smallest of morsels passing by whilst you suckle on nature’s other offerings.
You have at last found a worthy feeding ground amongst the thin grasses of this murky bank. This piece of drift offers a perch from which you may indulge your glutinous greed. You seek a place to hide, a place of recess from which you may ambush your unsuspecting prey.
Cloaked by stealth and the hush of your own inner stillness, you await what tasty treat flicks past seeking a safety all its own whilst knowing not that you are now the monstrous dark occupant which all others must fear in this previously safe harbor.
All Rights Reserved © 2012 Nina D’Arcangela
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