The Battle

It’s a hot Summers day. One of those ones you despise, for stepping foot outside even for a moment leads to a mass-drenching of clothes and hair. The humidity glues them to your body. So thick in the air you could almost lick the drops of moisture out of the rare and wispy currents of wind. Unfortunately, as this keeps us weak mortal beings indoors, it also drives the unspeakable horrors that live out in the wild bush and damp underground dens to roam for a place of cool. Doors are no obstacle, a lock being as useless as a water pistol against a fire breathing dragon. Up and into the house they come. Searching, hungering for a place to cool the weary body. Into my room one creeps, and that’s when I see it. Death incarnate.

Legs sprouting from every possible angle. Its steadfast body armour like a knights, keeping the vulnerable soft parts safely encased within. Six of its highly intelligent eyes scan me for the kill. I hear its whispers, “Closer, come closer. You will make a fine meal for my babies unborn”. The venom of its words working magic on my muscles, leaving me paralysed and disabling my mind.

Blood curdling chills start to run up my spine, rendering themselves alive through the sharp piercing squeals that issue from my lips. I must show no fear! For it will attack. A weapon is all I need. I reach out for my saviour, my Excalibur, to slay the mighty beast. I’m prepared to strike with the full force and whole 600mls of the can! Making full use of its extra reach tip to get into areas that prey should not go near. I flail wildly for it, just out of my grasp. I begin to hear a guttural, keening sound coming from close-by. The neighbours cat maybe? No it’s coming from me! The precipitation of my utter fear. My impending doom if I don’t do something quickly.

It senses the proximity of my panic. Lunging forwards with all its power. Its primal intent written plainly in its actions. My flight of fight response kicks in just in time. I take what seems a suicidal step towards the raging creature and grab hold of the only thing that can liberate me from this battle. I spray! I spray so hard the face of the monster turns white. Halting its rapid progress as the poison I inflict starts to be absorbed. It turns, bow-legged and lost. Scrambling for a place to hide and recover. Out of my room it scurries. I have won! I bested the beast.

But little do I know. Its brethren army converges. Doom approaches oblivious to the loss of a single unit. It hunts for respite. It hunts for what is mine!

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