Falcon, or the Death Instinct

She has finally snapped, plummeting fast into a borderline-homicidal rage. Only he has the power to stop her... that is, if he can get there in time.

The Peregrine Falcon is the fastest bird,

and in fact the fastest animal on the planet,

when in its hunting dive, the stoop,

in which it soars to a great height,

then dives steeply at speeds of over 322km/hr.

The force and impact is often enough to kill a victim while still in midair.

- (onekind.org)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

     My cell phone rings.

     "Hey," she greets me. I hear rocks crunching under her feet, so I know she's walking. Probably back to her house from one of those neurotic midnight pacings she does.

     "Hey," I reply, suppressing my protective instinct and swallowing the lecture I was going to give her about wandering around outside by herself here. Let her make her own mistakes, I think as I sink into an antique armchair by the fireplace.

     "Remember a few months ago?" she asks. I mumble something similar to Mmhm, though I have literally no idea what she wants me to remember. A whole lot of s**t - just a whole hell of a lot - happened a few months ago, so I let her talk and assume that I'll catch up eventually.

     "Remember when I said I was over it?" Oh, no... please, not this again... "Well, I'm not." Big surprise there. "I've been thinking a lot lately, and I just can't. I can't let it go. Remember when I said that I wouldn't do anything?"

     It is at this point that I sit up in my chair.

     There is a very specific way one has to deal with this woman. I haven't known her long enough to figure out all of it, but still, I know more than anyone else. She's tested my patience and occasionally my sanity with her constant questions and irrational way of thinking, but I've proven myself to be able to handle everything she hurls my way. Until tonight.

     Because right now, every alarm and flashing red light in my mind is going off. On the line, I hear one door shut and a second open, muffled metallic clinks, and the sound of several heavy objects being dumped on a table.

     I am now on my feet.

     "Ok, listen, you're not -" I start, stalling for time while I stumble around in the darkness of my own house with the phone in one hand and a dying flashlight in the other, trying to find where I'd flung my coat in a fire-hazard maze of moving boxes.

     "Remember when I called off my plan for revenge?" she says, coolly, casually, cutting me off. One by one, I hear her loading them and wonder no more about the clinking sounds. I stop searching for the coat. Suddenly, I don't have any spit left in my mouth.

     F**k it, I think, heading for the door and preparing myself to enter a bone-chilling winter night at 2:53AM. I curse the moonless sky. Could've sworn she had a prescription for sleeping pills.

     I mutter and stutter, struggling to come up with a reply in between breaths as I run to my dirt-smeared truck, throw it in drive, and spin out to the empty road on two wheels. If I can get there in time, I can stop her. On the line again, there are the sounds of her own truck's doors opening and the careful setting of her rifle case to rest in the floorboard.

     "Yeah, well, forget what I said before," she continues, ignoring me. "It's back on."

Reviews

[Craig2591]

Nice, suspenseful little snippet of a larger story. I enjoyed how you revealed what was going on a little at a time. I also like the mystery of what happened to set her off. I like having to use my imagination. It was well written and enjoyable.

[Basmakyah Borz]

Thank you for your words! I must admit that I am disappointed in myself, though. I had hoped to hit the reader harder.