Posted by: Ariel | September 11, 2009

“The Wasp’s Escape”

And, in the end
We lie awake
And dream of making our escape

He kept on walking.  Each step hurt worse than the last, why was that?  Ah yes, one of his legs wasn’t working right.  He fought through the pain.  He had to keep going.  Forward, forward.  He slipped and crumpled to the floor.  He couldn’t get any purchase on the ground, it was so slippery.  He scrabbled around pathetically for a few moments.  He thought about maybe staying down, giving up.  But no, he was a fighter.  He was going to get out of this.

He got to his feet.  Well, most of them.  He winced and limped a few steps.  He couldn’t turn to the right, it hurt too much.  He angled himself to the left and took a step.  Why couldn’t he see where he was going?  It was hard to remember.  His antennae flexed in spasms, they curled up and straightened out compulsively.  He couldn’t smell anything but the overwhelming sickly sweetness.  It was the only smell he could remember.  It was the only smell he had ever smelled in his life.  That was a frightening thought.  Suddenly he was scared.  He furiously used his front legs to try to clean himself.  He had to get it off.  He had to get it off!  He was suffocating.  He gasped, and his thoughts blurred together.

* * *

He kept on flying.  He didn’t look behind him.  He didn’t waver; he was flying!  Fast and confident, his wings hummed strongly.  His black and yellow coat glimmered in the bright sun.  He was in a glimmering mood.  He was free.  He was never going back to her.  He flew faster and faster.  He was intoxicated with his own freedom.  He was enamored with the concept of belonging to no one, of having no one.  There was only him, and the wind.  There was only him.

He was more in the moment than he’d ever been.  He was exhilarated.  He soared faster and higher, his stinger vibrating, his eyes glistening.  He had been flying all his life, yet he felt like he had never flown before.  Here was something new.  He felt innocent, and light.  He rose higher and higher.  He became reckless.  He flew into an open window.  He fell.

* * *

He kept on crawling.  He was really getting sick of it.  He kept on looking at the sky, but he couldn’t go there.  It was forbidden.  It was home, and he was an exile.  What was his crime?  Did he deserve this?  He ached all over.  He was in a cage.  It was the worst kind of cage – a glass cage, with the world taunting him but just out of reach.  It wasn’t fair.  He was frustrated.  He became angry.  He became oddly happy.  He was filled with a fierce joy.  He spread his wings, buzzing loudly, and took off.

* * *

He kept on walking.  He angled himself to the left and took a step.  He couldn’t remember where he was going.  His wings hung limp and useless.  He couldn’t remember how to use them.  He sputtered and gasped and dragged himself another step.  He had to keep going.  In his delirious haze he clung to his movement.  His progress was the sole focus of his will.  Every step brought him closer to escape, closer to freedom, closer to something, anything.  He knew he was getting somewhere, he knew it and the idea sustained him.  It was oxygen to him.  He breathed it in with every painful step.  Forward, forward.  Leftward, leftward.  His mind stopped.  His thoughts flickered out.  The sickly sweet smell was gone.  He had no more regrets.  There was only him.  There was only this step, and the next step.  He walked slowly now, in smaller and smaller circles.  He was almost there.

When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so
And I’m tired
I should not have let you go

So I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms
And I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms

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