Of Blood and Snow

WRITER'S BLOCK

Hello readers. It is me, THE Noelle Angelique, and I have come to burden you with very unfortunate news. It appears as if I have stumbled across the severe disease of WRITER'S BLOCK (highly contagious). It has been very hard for me to recover over the past 12 hours. I may need another day to sit on it with some nice chips, a blanket, and a laptop for some intensive Netflix binging. I sincerely apologize for the major cliffhanger I have left you all on, but if I may, please enjoy this nice short story of a fly that is currently evading the death grip of my flyswatter :)

"Harpooning the Harpooned"

by: noelle_angelique

"KEEP IT STEADY BOYS! SHE'S COMING AT US FAST!" yells Captain Windex.

Just then, the black beast with a million eyes, appears back in sight. Using its notorious wind offensive, she mercilessly flaps her powerful glass-like wings against the weakened and outnumbered crew. Look at the beast's build: hairy and monstrous to the touch, ugly and sharp at the teeth, and armored like titanium for war. She came here for one purpose: to kill.

"FIRE!" I shout as a series of BOOMS and BANGS echo into existence.

With that, dozens of No. 2 heavy bomber arrows spray into the air like a myriad of yellow needles aiming to kill. Unfortunately, several miss the target, but three render very critical gains. One arrow punctures its way into the giant's left antennae, weakening her communication signals for extra reinforcements. Another makes its way into one of her left legs, damaging her thickly armored thorax and causing that leg to fall off lizard-style in defense. The final arrow, the solution to the beast's airborne prowess, drills a hole into her massive right wing, crippling the monster's ability to fly and shattering that wing entirely as her body makes impact with the cold, hard ground.

"THE FIGHT'S NOT OVER YET!" reminds Captain Windex in a motivated fury, "PREPARE THE DEATHBRINGER!"

"PREPARING THE DEATHBRINGER, SIR," the crowd yells back in unison.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

"What was that?" I shout, grabbing onto the nearest sturdy object for support.

"Sounds like an earthquake," remarks Lieutenant Flytrap in perplexity.

Suddenly, a monster even bigger than its winged-companion blurs into focus. His polished brown leathery armor gleams against the harsh LED lit sun, blinding a majority of the crew.

"HE'S TOO STRONG," yell several of the crew members attempting to harpoon the even bigger beast in the distance. "We to need attack now before its too late!" they continue to shout.

Dust and gravel fly everywhere. Men die by the minute. Time is running short. Something needs to be done, and something needs to be done immediately! With the flying beast temporary down, and the brown, waxy, skyscraper-sized monster struggling to break free, Captain Windex makes a painful decision that can potentially prove futile for his crew if not executed properly. Knowing that the Deathbringer can only be effectively used once because of its slow recharging capacity, Captain Windex commands the deed to be done.

"But sir," Lieutenant Flyswatter interjects, "our most powerful offensive weapon can only be used once in this battle. Are you sure you want to proceed?"

Without uttering a single word, Captain Windex slowly but confidently nods in affirmation.

With that being said, one by one each soldier, including the ones stationed around the she-beast, leave their posts to assemble around the brown roach Gargantuan. In time, the added reinforcements by the strength and determination of 100 extra men, push the leathery beast, previously on his hind legs, to collapse onto his face pressed to the ground in a body-lock position. In the distance, the sound of the rolling Deathbringer harshly scrapes along the the sandy asphalt with its zapping metallic net trailing behind.

On cue, "NOW!" yells the lieutenant, waving his arm upwards and downwards in a violent motion.

Upon hearing the lieutenant's cue, the monster braces for impact as the catapult-like Deathbringer, with the power of Zeus, Jesus and Despacito 2, unclips from its metallic hinges and slams upon the beast's leathery body, electrocuting, squishing, and spreading its insides all over the vicinity. Suddenly, from a distance, a terrible screeching noise erupts from the she-beast after helplessly witnessing the gruesome death and destruction of her lover and former companion. With a crippled body but a fury so hot to melt earth, her millions of red eyes burn with fire as she, despite her injuries, charges at an ungodly speed towards Captain Windex and his troops.

"What do we do now, sir?" I question nervously.

"Release the spider," demands the Captain with a grim tone and sadistic grin plastered upon his lips.

One by one the soldiers, bravely sacrificing their lives for the greater good, line up with shields but no weapons, as the she-beast, primarily focused on the intent to kill, slaughters them one by one, unknowingly falling for the trap that leads her closer to her death. For as she moves ruthlessly closer towards the end of the line, a certain surprise waits for her patiently and quietly like a predator stalking its prey.

At the last soldier when it is too late, the she-beast, stunned both metaphorically and literally, shrieks in pain as she realizes from the corner of her eye the makings of her old-time, eight-legged nemesis already fang deep into the crook of her left arm. Wobbling as the beast slowly loses vision, she finally collapses onto the gravel upon feeling the potent venom coursing through her veins and paralyzing her from the legs up, leaving her vulnerable to attack from all angles.

"ATTACK!!" yell several of the anxiously furious crew members and troops running toward the fallen monster.

"Halt," demands the Captain, "Our work here is done, boys. Pack up and go. Let us give our eight-legged friend the honors of finishing off our enemy tonight."

With that being said, I, Captain Windex, and Lieutenant Flyswatter, along with our noble troops and audacious crew members, walk away with backs facing the battlefield, only hearing sounds of ripping bandages, breaking appendages, and burping satisfactions.

The end.