Bill went back into the cabin, put the key to the car on the table where the stacks of papers sat, and then sat in the chair by the window and looked out at the forest. Bill loved seeing dirt and pine needles scattered over the ground, so much more beautiful to look at than concrete. Then Bill shot himself.
Mostly, they didn’t want to kill, but that was their fate. Life
must eat life to survive and sometimes kill to protect itself, and they were
killers.
Terrell
Terrell saw him in the tall grass, 200 yards upwind and
drinking from a small creek. The air was soft and warm. The sun’s intensity
made the colors unusually bright, the azure sky, the surrounding green jungle,
patches of dark brown earth, and the crystalline reflection of the stream where
David was drinking. Terrell was big and powerful, but a lack of protein had
made his mind slow, and he was physically weak. The abundant plants and fruits
did nothing to keep Terrell alive, he needed protein to survive, there was no
other way. How life worked and why, he didn’t know. Movement alerted his brain,
and his eyes blinked into focus when David lifted his head to look around. Had
David seen him? Heard his thoughts? Terrell slipped lower down into the tall
grass and stilled his movements as he prayed he hadn’t been discovered.
Continue reading “The Killing Place”