|Thoust Shall Let Thy Ant Live (standard:Flash, 394 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: May 29 2006||Views/Reads: 2109/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|One ant crawling over my boot, not understanding the present danger...|
Thoust Shall Let The Ant Live Copyright Kelly_Shaw2001 The ant crawling around my boot right now does not understand the present danger. Tired, frustrated and angry I care less whether it should live or not. It's just an ant. I raise my boot and watch it climb under the sole. So what if I'm about to extinguish the life of this ant, would it really matter? The situation right now has its own special temptations. I might feel better if I stamp on its existence. ‘Hast thou no heart; canst thou not let this creature live and suffer whatever it be?' Conscience, I hate it. The ant dares to climb back on top of my boot. Ignorance is bliss. It crawls round in circles, seeing the world from a different height. The ant is not afraid, by its very actions it is telling me: ‘What art thou afraid of? Canst thy not find it in your heart to trample me under they boot?' What is the purpose of the ant? What is the purpose of its very existence? His life hangs upon my temperament and association. What does a young ant look like compared to a geriatric ant? Upon this thought all my presuppositions about the ant at once fall to the ground. It's in my nature to let it live. Later tonight I may, accidentally, extinguish it. Better that than act out my vengeance and anger by stomping it into the tiled floor. I let the ant live. What did it matter you may ask. Well, it was a matter of infinite consequence. I wasn't willingly ready to accept the burden of knowing I had deliberately stamped my foot on the ant. An hour earlier it might have been different. My mood, my thought, my temperament was not what it is now. The ant seemed friendly enough. I let it climb on my finger; it ran across the palm of my hand. Finally I let it down on the kitchen table. What possible harm can such an irrelevance have upon my life? I left the ant to go his way. The shower water hit me hard. When I looked down, rinsing my hair, a hardback beetle was crossing the shower floor. I raised my foot and stamped down on it, crushing it to death with some ferocity. I hate beetles in my shower. Tweet
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Cyrano has 95 active stories on this site.
Profile for Cyrano, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.