Burrow
The patio bricks were cold beneath his bare feet. He looked to the sky and it was clear yet he was sure it would rain before morning. Returning his attention to the grassy forest-edge he noticed that the porch light sent long shadows into the front lot. He checked his watch; eleven fifteen p.m. The autumn night was cold and the trees danced in the gusty breezes. Random piles of leaves stirred in the chill draft, twigs became tails and leaves became ears, until the little bodies drifted away.
He turned to go inside when the hollow sound of disturbed leaves echoed from somewhere by the trees. He knelt down to allow more light to pass. The light tricked and he froze. There, nestled near a thin fallen branch on the edge of a shadow was a small shiny critter. It was like nothing he had ever seen. It seemed to coil and uncoil its segmented body like it was using some arcane sense. There was no threat in its motions, though its nature somehow seemed malign. If he looked just right, the stubby black worm appeared in the shadow-play to become for a moment a large shadowy squirrel, or a fox. The creature, apparently oblivious of its untimely exposure remained in view. For a moment he was sure it would disappear, like a shadow on the edge of his vision. He managed not to move. It coiled and uncoiled rhythmically, ritualistically removing leaves and debris that seemed to cling to its moist carapace.
Its motions were subtle and slow, making its way for the nearest rock. Tip tailing across the dry grass it moved steadily until it reached a long shadow. At that, it seemingly disappeared without event and as a mote of light reappeared behind a baby rabbit, peeking out into the night. It began thumping its narrow back end vigorously on the ground, thup-thup-thup-thup, like some alien Morse code. That did seem threatening, to him and as for the creature’s tiny prey, it was petrified. The wind picked up and the autumn chill seemed to reach a little deeper into his bones.
The creature’s tail flicked, brutally striking and crushing the rabbit’s skull. Somehow then it took hold of the limp carcass and dove into the earth like it was liquid. The image seized him as if believing what he just saw was real would then be forever ingrained in his memory. Feeling exposed he fled into the house, double locking the door. He stood for many thunderous heartbeats, holding his hands to his face until he could breathe normally.
Something metallic touched glass behind him, he whirled about. His cat Pandora was leading his wife into the front hall, a bowl of ice cream in her hands.
“What’s the matter?” Deena asked matter of factly.
He answered with an anxious zeal, “I just saw a baby rabbit stalked and killed out there.”
Unmoved by his excitement she stabbed her ice cream with her spoon and asked, “By what?”
“I don’t know… it was dark and small.” His hands found his face again as he spoke.
“A grey fox maybe?”
“Yeah, go on upstairs.” He paused again to rub his eyes. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
With that Deena angled her hips and started up the lengthy staircase. She glanced over her shoulder to give him a demure wink but he had his back turned to peek out of the window again.
“Steve...” She started.
He spun again as if caught stealing.
“What?” This time his voice was a bit too loud.
Her expression became quizzical.
“It’s cold, it might rain.” He said, gesturing passively at the window and the curtains danced to life.
“OK, hurry up.” The cat was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
He peeked out of the window again, and as he put his hand on the metallic latch he got a static shock. The night seemed two-dimensional and very black.
