28 March 2010

Magpie Tales #7...Fox

The daffodils hang their heads, bowing to the ground. The early morning air is crisp and damp.
I pad toward them, sniffing here and there. My bushy, amber tail is suspended just above the dewdrops.
I jump as I hear a loud noise. I lope into a hedge to hide.
After a few moments, I emerge; first my nose, then one paw - two paws - cautiously coming out.
I sniff again at the grass. I place one paw in front of the other carefully onto the ground, not disturbing the spiders' webs in the grass.
I feel a pain in my side. I turn. My side is dark and sticky, gushing red blood. I try to lick at it, soothe it, clean it. The daffodils bend back from where they were hunched by the rush of air.
I falter, my legs weakening. They don't support me. Traitors. I collapse on the ground.
I try to yelp as I feel a presence, a shadow over me. All I can mange is a sickly gurgle. A trickle of blood escapes my lips.
He looks down into my eyes.
I look up at his; small and squinty, blue like ice, that stare indifferently down at me. His thoughts are unreadable.
I blink. The twin darkness of identical barrels on a shotgun press down in the air above my face.
I feel a flash, searing my eyes. I close them against it and the pain. But now it stops hurting. I lie still.

The hunter kicks my body with a large dirtied boot, then picks it up by the feet and flings it over his shoulder.
The daffodils, straightening in the sunlight, are cheery yellow. Their false happiness is only marred by the spatter on each of their smiling heads; a faint pattern of death.


Catalyst said...

Oh, ouch! Such a terrible tale, so masterfully written. I grieve for the fox.

She Writes said...

Wow, that was an unexpected take on a bright sunny flower!

steviewren said...

What a surprising take on the photo prompt. Beauty and death, side by side...shock and horror...sigh!

Eric S. said...

So sad, such a stain of springs flower. Great story.

Angie Muresan said...

This is powerful. I love what you did with it.

Peter Goulding said...

Ouch! Well that one certainly kicks us out of our cosy world! Great image of the daffodils spattered red.

willow said...

Unique points of view, from the eyes of the fox, as well as the daffodils.

Aoife.Troxel said...

hmmm...I had originally written this in third person, but when I was describing it to a family friend, they thought that it was written from the POV of the fox. I decided to try it...the only problem was after its death, I still needed the image of the daffodils, since they were the first and last images, and also of the hunter kicking the body and picking it up roughly. It worked pretty well in the end though (lucky for me)

Lyn said...

Life goes on, doesn't it..poor foxy..now I think I'd rather be a daffodil!

Pat transplanted to MN said...

Sturck me as so very very sad. We used to have family of fox living down the hill but they disappeared a year ago...I hope they did not meet that same fate. When I started reading about the bushy red tale I immediately saw one of our fox, long gone.

Aoife.Troxel said...

We had foxes in our garden as well Pat.There were three; a mother and her two kits. They used to play while our cats stared at them curiously from the window :)

Brian Miller said...

wonderfully written...so dreadful for those pursued...

Queenmothermamaw said...

Q wonderful piece of writing. A sad story but a masterful portrayal of a sad but true situation.
Thanks for your visit.

tori said...

great take on the prompt. very good! poor fox.

rel said...

The daffodils accept it.
the fox accepts it.
Only man trys to ignore the cycle of life.