The Hawk

I had to do this for an English assignment, the task was to use an extended metaphor. Enjoy :)

Perched above the forest the hawk watches his prey, his sharp beady eyes piercing the morning mist. The sounds of a world coming to life echo, bouncing from tower to tower. His lean haggard form silhouetted against the sun. Spindly talons, sharp ready to shred and tear. Windblown garments invest him with an air of mystery.

He waits to swoop down upon his unsuspecting victims. They never know when he will strike; stealth and fear are his only weapons of choice. The chill on the wind, the sound that shatters the silence are your only warnings, by then it’s too late. His talons grip your neck, with one ominous ‘snap’ your life has ended. Feared by most, unknown by many, befriending none, a lonely life he leads, pest control of the world. But who is the pest? Depends on the price.

Ruffling up his feathers one last time he takes off, gracefully gliding on the wind descending onto the city below. Across the city he sees the first signs of life the windows light up, the murmurs of the newly awoken, the boiling kettle and the early risers on their way to work. People reading the morning papers are informed of the assassination of the British ambassador to America.

These things remind him of his purpose.  His sharp beady eyes focus in on his next target, a seemingly innocent by passer wearing a brown coat. Turning the corner the hawk follows the man down a small alley way into a grungy block of flats. Up on the third floor the man stops to unlock his apartment, calmly and silently the hawk approaches the man unawares until a slight creak in the floorboards alert him, he turns. He gasps. He dies.

Dropping his cigarette on the ground, stamping it into the cracks in the concrete the hawk walks calmly back out into the street melting away into the crowd, just another man in a crowd.