I'm down here on the floor
my compound eyes
blinded, times over, by the light flooding my domain.
The energy of a million ancestors burning bright.
There's food everywhere
crumbs, scraps, flakes of skin .
And dirt.
I skirt the piles of rubbish,
I ignore the siren calls of dust mites and
head towards the brilliance before me.
I am drawn in that direction.
It is my drones destiny.
My mission:
"feed the masses".
I drag a dead weight,
a corpse,
100 times my mass behind me.
There are two of us on this job.
My pinchers ache.
I can't use my arms or legs
I need maximum traction on the floor.
This is a tough assignment.
We're weaving across the boards like drunks.
Why did we get given this task?
Punishment?
I'm thinking I need to polish up my social skills
in the presence of royalty.
We'll need to dismember this beast
before we can get it past our front door.
And why a daylight run?
Everyone knows its safer at night.
Large pads of flesh land close by my head.
I freeze.
Take evasive action.
Panic!
I've heard the stories of these monsters.
I'm exhausted.
I yearn for a bit of shut eye.
Yesterday I got brushed
into a corner.
A huge moon with eyes and a gaping mouth
breathed a foul odour in my direction
then flicked me,
THUMP!
against the wall and
onto a plastic tray.
My head was spinning
I had the eeerie sense of flying,
breadcrumbs and silt flying beside me
towards a hole deep and dark
My dreams of flying were never like this
spiralling down, flipping end over end
to the bottom of a pit.
It took me the best part of half a day
to find my way back to the human cave.
My task is not complete.
This place is bigger than I remember.
I love the wide open spaces but
this is rdiculous.
Polished floors so shiny
I can see my reflection.
I'm quite impressed with my abdomen
sleek and round.
So here I am
toiling across this great expanse
dragging a corpse.
Again.
I've travelled this path a thousand times.
Always the same path.
I must ask about the allocation of shifts at the next ant forum.
Little wonder my smile is a little pinched.
Years of work, repetition, and high risk take its toll.
© Steve Capelin 2010 . All rights reserved.
For more writing and writers click on the Magpie Tales stamp.
12 comments:
This is one of the best take on the prompt...
" I need to polish up my social skills
in the presence of royalty" Lol..:D:D
Oh whata piece...
Utterly superb Predicament of an ant..."foul odour","gaping mouth","Thumps"...oh I'm sure gonna be more carefull next time i am around one...
Loved it!:):)
the life of an ant is not an easy one! Fun read!
sharp tale.
love ants in general, their life is not easy of course.
beautiful highlight of tiny life.
I feel you somehow became an ant to write this..a great talent to inhabit another to such a degree...
so imaginative!
How fun is this take on an ant's hefty load, they're work is never done!
I love this, LOVE it! I don't know which line I like more, "large pads of flesh land close by my head" or "I'm quite impressed with my abdomen
sleek and round". Very entertaining read, Steve.
beautiful take.. a balladic form here! but flow not lost anytime!
ah, the ant's life.. never easy I guess! :)
my magpie is ~here~
This is very clever ... an ant's point of view.
This is very clever ... an ant's point of view.
Creative - artistic and imaginative writing, wealth of rich words and insight into the micro levels of this world, seen through your lens you lead the reader through an open doorway into a fantastic miniature universe.
cheers,
Joanny
http://thedowsersdaughter.blogspot.com/
let's hear it for the ant!
this was an absolute treat to read...thank you
I thoroughly enjoyed this glimpse into the thought s and world of an ant. So very well written.
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