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It was a few weeks ago that it happened. I was talking on the phone
with my friend Malcolm while soaking in the bathtub. It was late at night and
I had the bathroom window open to let in some fresh air. A big bug flew in
the window, one of those that people call "mosquito hawks."
Mosquito hawks resemble large scary mosquitoes, but they won't bite you,
supposedly. I've never seen them bite anyone, but you never know.
Sure bug experts can pin them to things or pluck them apart and classify
them, but what do they know about a bug's thoughts or motives? If they even
have them, that is. And it was in this way that I began to consider the idea
that maybe those hawks weren't so harmless. Sure they hadn't bitten me yet,
nor had I heard of anyone being bitten, but maybe they were waiting for
something. Maybe they knew something I didn't.
While I was having these thoughts, the hawk was swooping around my
tiny bathroom above my head. This was rather terrifying considering that I
was naked, flat on my back in a tub of water, while it flew about directly
above my supine body. I told Malcolm about the bug. He had been scared of
them since as long as I could remember and I could practically hear him
cringe on the other end of the line. While we were discussing it, another
hawk flew through the window out of the darkness. This one was a little more
rowdy and it kept flying closer and closer to me. I told Malcolm that I would
call him back. As soon as I got off of the phone with him the second hawk
flew so close to me that I could have swatted it with my hand. I didn't want
to touch it, but I needed to get it far enough away that I could wash my
hair in peace, so I pushed some water forward to make a small wave that would
frighten it away. It was low over the water now, but I thought that it would
be able to avoid the approaching wave. I was wrong. The wave caught it, and,
to my horror, I watched it twitching and writhing on the surface of the
bathwater. A few of its legs were severed and floated next to its body. It
was too late to fish the separate pieces of its corpse from the water and I
didn't want to bathe with the creature I had murdered. Feeling guilty, I
leapt from the bathtub and hurried out of the bathroom where the first,
unmurdered hawk was still flying around.
I felt terrible. I had killed an innocent creature. It had done
nothing to me and yet I had drowned it. Well, I didn't mean to, but I had
just the same. What if its friends and relatives came to avenge it? What if
they really could suck blood like mosquitoes? What if it was actually related
to the mosquitoes, who would come in a swarming cloud to feed on me? I
called Malcolm back and told him about it. He didn't seem to care much about
it, but he did think that it was gross that one fell in my bath.
When I went into the bathroom later that night, I saw the hawk's
remains in the bottom of the empty tub. There were a few detached legs strewn
about, but I saw that the hawk's main body was still twitching. It was alive.
But it was not really alive. I had not killed it, but I had not let it live
either. I looked at it, pathetic thing. Dr. Kevorkiak, I thought,
and smashed its last chance at life with a tissue. I wiped up its legs and
threw the tissue in the trash. I shivered, waiting for the storm of
bloodsuckers. They did not come. A solitary hawk fluttered around the
bathroom but showed no signs of calculating vengeance. A few weeks have
passed now and I see mosquito hawks in my house nearly every night, but the
storm has yet to come. When I see one I think of my murder, and wonder if it
knows. I think of their vengeance sometimes and the fluttering noises of
their wings against the walls send chills down my spine. I have waited for
their swarm of revenge. I have waited at night to hear their wings fluttering
against my walls at midnight, but I have not heard them, and I am still
waiting.
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