Escape.

Escape

An assassin set his sights on me. Over eight days, he’s tried to poison me and chased me with an arsenal of deadly weapons. I’m exhausted, but alive.

My only sin: Homelessness. This man – this sadistic, murderous human being -- discovered me sneaking onto his property for tiny scraps of food. Now the only exit is closed and I’m stuck in this death trap. I crawled into a small, dark hidden space days ago and wait for any opportunity to flee. Hunger and thirst overwhelm me.

Smells of sweat and stale vodka follow this grizzled man. He wanders in my direction several times each day, and I try mightily not to heave. I’d walk through a river of filth for one meal, but in my present state, foul odors wretch my stomach. Silent gags, for the man will kill me if he hears. Does he look and listen for me as he paces? Perhaps he believes I’ve already escaped and this is his normal routine.

My mouth swelled with mucus from dehydration. Dying of thirst isn't the peaceful, dreamy death people say. I consider ending my own life to avoid the misery.

Wait! The man dons a jacket and shoes. I ready for escape, stretching my cramped legs. I launch, make a bee-line for the exit and fly through the door. I search for the road I followed here, the path that will lead me to the river and lifesaving water.

Goodbye, you grotesque, sick man; and goodbye to your rolled up newspapers!

A semi speeds around the corner. No, no, no, I lived through a half-dozen attempts on my life, only to end up another splatter on a windshield? My heart rate soars. I adjust my wings to veer left, but the truck is ....

Bzzzz, Splat.