I'm running through the fields, which is weird when you think about it because I can actually fly, but I feel as though when I do choose to fly that I will be ripped to pieces and eaten. No mercy. Although I do have six legs, are six legs better than two wings? They are up above, high, swooping around and they want their feast.
Run, fat boy run. I'm not even fat. I don't know what I am. I have a human head and the body of a Harvestman. But six legs. I don't know. It feels strange. Are harvestmen insects or spiders? I think they have eight legs but I know they like to kill spiders. I am the mortal enemy of the spider and I enjoy killing them, but times have changed, the spiders have new friends.
Falcons high above. Swooping around and diving menacingly. The field is green but the sky is black and snow is falling, gently, but I feel it will fill the ground soon. Still running. Giant balls of round blue, sticky, attractive, on the end of the branches of the tree. A spider opens its jaws and spits out another blue ball of death. It clambers back into the tree.
I have little hairy legs. I don't want to die like this, I love my field. Demons everywhere. Into the undergrowth I run. Little white teeth, evil eyes like black holes right in front of me. It's a mouse. Evil. He wants to eat me too. The Falcon swoops low, the mouse is now running with me. The field is muddy and I can't run. I close my eyes and the Falcon starts to eat me but then lets go, up into the black sky he soars. The mouse has ran into one of the blue balls on the tree. Spiders come out. The spiders trap the mouse and the Falcon goes to feast on the mouse. As I lay here the snow continues to fall and I slowly die, alone in the field, the field I grew up in, the field I thought was my playground. The death of an insect. The death of a mouse.