By: Gian Garmendia
The savannah sun lit my mane to a blonde color. The yellow orb far in the distance had begun to descend, and the golden land’s wild life was coming to rest. I sit tall on the edge of the rock cliff, gazing across the orange horizon. I sit, and wait. And wait. And wait. And then, it was dark. The hour was grim. The land was quiet.
I dreaded this time. How am I supposed to stand proud when even the sun itself does not face this savannah?
Before I knew it, my head hung low.
This is foolish. No matter what time it was, or where the sun had gone, I must be mighty. That is how my son must see me.
And yet, my shoulders are attempting to close my body into a ball of stress. My ears began to twitch, as if trying to find a semblance of sound on their own.
Why is it so quiet?
I turned toward my cave. My home. Our home. I claimed this cave myself. My family needed a home, so I took it from two other animals. What they were did not matter, because I was fierce. But that was a while ago, and now life is peaceful, or it should be.
That is why I must sit here. There are no laws out there. No order, only anarchy. My daily salvation from the terrors of life is that my family can sleep soundly. But, I feel helpless. This sitting here, watching for threats to our life, is foolish. This stress, this fear is foolish. It simply isn’t fair. Why must harm come to others? Why must I sit here every night and worry? I’ve done nothing wrong, I merely chose to live. I merely chose a life for us. I….I…
. . . . . . . . . .
I don’t want to die.
Death is cold, on both sides. Ever since I claimed our beautiful home, I’ve never felt more dreary. As if our happy life is tainted.
Maybe, my son would see me, shining in the morning sun, and sit next to me one day. “You did what you had to.” ….. No, he wouldn’t say that. He would say…..”That’s just what beasts do.” The cave can only confine his mind for so long. The cave is safe. The cave is home.
His mother has done her best to stay with him while I hunt for food. Despite everything she stays. I unleash death for our family to live. Everyday. And with everyday that goes by, my stomach sinks into itself more and more. I’m afraid, yet I know my time will come. The day someone decides that they must trade my family’s lives for their own. And when the time comes, I am not only afraid we’ll die, I’m afraid I’ll be helpless. Perhaps the hunter is more skilled than I, a proud lion. One strike to my throat, and my life will end.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The sun rose from the other side of the world. The savannah had once more become vibrant with life. The soft glow of the sun, was then interrupted, by small black dots swirling and spinning in the air. As these little dots buzzed with excitement, they flew toward the ground and up again. Flies swarmed the corpse whose skin had become deflated with the lack of intestine within. The flies rubbed their legs together, as they stood on the corpse’s eyes, to taste the fleeting soul of a false king.
