The Intruder

[ARCHIVE: I think this is when I started to like writing short short stories.]

The air swam around him with humidity, coating his skin with a layer of nonexistent sweat. His hair fell long and unkempt around his face. A single rivulet of water ran down his bare chest. Hard callused toes balanced his frame, spry and quick.

There. In front of him. It stood there, mocking him with its very existence. The dull glow of faraway lights reflected off its hardened exterior. The dark, earthen-colored shell split naturally down the back, hinting at the fragile, powerful wings underneath. Spindly, hairy legs protruded from underneath its frame, twitching erratically with nervous energy. Twin antennae whipped around, sniffing for a trace of something, anything organic, edible, consumable. In its single-minded desire for sustenance, the predator did not notice its hunter.

His arms tensed as he took a step towards it. Towards this intruder, that lived on his land, ate his food, giving nothing in return but more of its kind. It did nothing. No lightning-quick skittering, not tell-tale freezing of motion. He took another step. Still nothing. He was within striking distance.

Slowly he raised his weapon. On its own, it was harmless. Another casual object, cast aside. In his hands, it was an extension of his will. A part of his arm with which he could smite his enemies. Veins rippled on his arm as he tensed.

WHAM.

It lay on the ground, life fluid smeared over the club. The feelers, no longer receiving brain impulses, continued its last command, felling the ground before it, sending back information back to a mind that was already gone. He had won this day, decisively and swiftly. But there would be more. Disposing of the body, he walked away.

(Note: I don't know why, but this popped into my head when I killed a cockroach with a wiffle bat last night)