It will live the rest of its life never once tasting human blood.

August 10, 2012 § Leave a comment

This week I returned to my all-but-abandoned novel that I have occasionally excerpted here. I sat it aside for a number of reasons, some more legitimate than others but none worth mentioning. The reason for my return, perhaps, are more noteworthy. Quite plainly, I missed it.

* * *

R. did not feel the brown recluse readying to bite his left ankle or the mosquito with designs on the white of his right wrist. He did not sense there was a copperhead sliding into her den three feet away, or that the mouse she was digesting was pregnant. He was unaware that the shit smeared in the grooves of his new shoes was that of Darryl Jones, or that it contained suspicious traces of blood Darryl was afraid to ask about. There was a slight dandelion stain smeared midway down the back of Ramsey’s t-shirt that would neither come out nor ever be noticed. Daryl will be dead in five years, after two rounds of chemo and remission, drowning off the coast of Northern California during a family vacation. In a month, the copperhead will be killed by a family of raccoons. The mosquito bite will itch for two days. The spider, it turns out, was only passing through,  momentarily lost on its way. It will live the rest of its life, who knows how long, never once tasting human blood.

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