Black Fly Hunt

It was a warm summer night. The damsel flies buzzed around looking for some nice juicy mosquitoes. The waves lapped quietly, making their way through the sharp rocks towards the shore. I was sitting there, contemplating the approaching darkness, when a bug landed on me. I looked down at it. A black fly no doubt, with it’s beady little eyes glaring up at me, begging me. “Just try it,” I whispered. It bit me.
Instantly, my open-palmed hand came down upon it. The black fly squished onto my arm. I looked at it again, “I warned you,” I slowly picked it up and dropped it into the pile. “Only two days left”