Cecily

Cecily

Cecily paused at the tunnel entrance, scanning the open area. It wasn’t danger her senses were alert for – it was food. In the past, her ancestors had lived in small groups and foraging had been easier. Every tribe had its own area and, with fewer mouths to feed, there had been plenty for all.

Now “they” were everywhere. Cecily’s people had been systematically forced out of their arboreal homeland as the earth itself was torn and covered over. Her people had adapted; they moved deeper underground and gathered in groups that numbered in the thousands – perhaps even hundreds of thousands.

Survival first. She thought of the mantra she had been raised with. It had been foretold that “they” would eventually perish and the world would return to normal.

“There!” She found the trail that led across a shining tiled surface. It was faint but she could taste the sweetness that it promised. Without thinking, she set off at a brisk walk taking time only to mark the trail. Others would be following. There were so many mouths to feed but she didn’t think about that – only find food, bring as much back as she could carry, and pass on the location.

Up ahead, she could see other members of the tribe busily loading up and scurrying off. Huge amounts of food lay scattered about as she hefted a large mosel and turned homeward.

Nearing the tunnel that marked safety, she never saw the fine mist drifting downward until the droplets began spattering around her. She could feel the acrid liquid begin to blister her skin and lungs until she fell motionless, the last vestiges of life leaving her.

“Mom, they’re back,” Melissa shouted. She took aim and sent another spray of ant killer at the small hole at the back of the counter.

Notes:
An entry for the 6/1/10 round of "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"  [13+]
Prompt: Write a story that includes the words: shadow, tile, blister

Word Limit: 300
Word Count: 300

Cecily, scientific name Tapinoma Sessile, is also known as the odorous house ant.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please, as long as you’re here, leave a comment. Criticisms, thoughts, reactions, yes – even words of encouragement or praise – are all equally welcome

Ken