It was a clear evening. The kind that makes all your senses seem to operate at a higher level than they normally do. Sounds are sharper, smells are stronger, and it’s bright enough to see forever. The sky was brilliantly lit with a silky veil of stars that were only outdone by the neon glow of a nearly full August moon. A group of quietly chirping crickets was the only audience in attendance for the occasional sounds of automobiles passing by on the highway, sounds that otherwise bounced around the still night and fell upon abandoned corn fields in the dark. The wind was slow and steady, never really gaining or losing momentum as it softly carried all the faint aromas associated with diesel fuel and late summer cook-outs through the towering pine trees of the neighboring forest.
During daylight hours the areas wildlife is abundant. Various species’ of bird sing to whoever listen, chipmunks chatter relentlessly, and the occasional deer can be spotted grazing in the taller grass. Once in a while one may hear an owl, or the faint call made by a loon on the lake in the distance, or a flock of geese traveling north to escape Maine’s seasonal misery, but at night the signs of activity are scarce. Tonight, it seemed, only one woodland creature stirred, a lone rabbit making its way across the corn field.
He moved slowly through the dried stocks, barely making a sound as he took one long hop after another, pausing in-between each one to stand up and sniff the air. His dark brown coat made him almost invisible among the other shadows in the night, a small patch of white fur on his chest was the only visible clue that he existed. He was silent, cautious, and deliberate, like a mouse that had broken into a kitchen to pillage what it could from the cupboards. When he stood his ears rose, straining to identify any sounds of possible danger. It was another fifty yards to the section of woods that contained his burrow, a complex system of underground tunnels that afforded perfect protection from intruders overnight. He stood one more time and threw his nose up into the air, his head rolled from side to side, slowly scanning the perimeter of the field, then he felt it.
It wasn’t anything he heard. In fact the night had taken on a disturbing silence now. Even the crickets, who moments ago had been serenading him with song, were now mute. All of the fur on his back stood on end. A cold shiver slowly rose up his spine. His instincts told him to get out of there, but he didn’t know which direction to run. He was frozen in fear by something he couldn’t see, something he couldn’t hear, but he could feel its eyes on him. From somewhere in those woods it was watching him… waiting.
Suddenly, as if Mother Nature had shot the terrified rabbit from a gun, he kicked with both of his long powerful legs and bolted in the direction of his hole. In four lengthy bounds he had traveled more than sixty feet, making only the slightest thumping sound every time the big pads of his rear feet hit the ground. His heart was beating so fast it seemed like it was on the verge of exploding, and then as abruptly as he started, he stopped. At first he didn’t know why. Once again, instincts had taken over and immobilized every muscle in his body. The wilderness beckoned to him. He wanted to go home but couldn’t. It was there, directly in front of him, from just inside the cover of the forest that a pair of eyes met his. Two glowing yellow ovals floating in an endless sea of darkness. The moonlight gave them away, reflecting off of them much like cars headlights reflect from the eyes of animals caught crossing the interstate at night.
It was the last thing the rabbit saw. As it stared into the ominous pair of yellow beacons ahead of it, a razor sharp set of claws crushed down on its back, immediately silencing its attempts to scream. Its legs kicked one last time, spraying dirt onto the rows of dried out corn stocks. A low growl could barely be heard over the sounds of ripping fur and flesh. The once white patch on its chest now stained crimson red. Its eyes still holding the look of terror it last experienced.
:( poor rabbit
ReplyDeleteGreat storytelling though! You should think about writing as a career