A Canopy

The trap worked. When the beast took the bait, the trap closed down hard like an arrow. Its hind legs were crushed; its bones came jutting out like warm glue. It was a wacky thing to view, this beast succumbing to my homemade trap. I had used nothing but sticks and wines from the canopy. I stood in front of the beast, not worried that it might hurt me; it was in agony from its broken legs. I removed one of the sticks from the beast and licked the blood clean off. Yum.

I caught a beast, and I was happy because now I wouldn’t have to worry about food for two months. I doubt I would get lucky a second time and catch another beast. Boy, I wouldn’t even know what to do with two beasts!

I studied the creature, perplexed at the weird evolution that the forest had rendered for me to prey upon. Once it had finally settled upon its abutting oblivion, I touched the beast, stroking its brittle cloak. I kept saying hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.

I walked to my camp in the canopy and came back with my tools (which were just sharp rocks). I laid my tools down and looked upon the beast, which was now asleep, snoring quietly with collapse. I kicked its swollen belly to make sure it wasn’t feigning sleep. It was not.

As I came upon the beast with my rock-skinning tool, the fucking thing opened one of its swollen eyes and looked dead at me! (No, my soul will not be sucked dry by its demon eye). I went through my tools again and took out a slender rock that I use for impaling demon eyes. As I tried to impale said demon eye, I had somehow missed the creature’s orbital head. My rock-impaling tool flew right over it. I must have been off my game today, probably feeling a bit lackadaisical or ethereal. The beast continued to look upon me, searchingly, as if waiting for an apology. (No, I regret not the shambling mouth of the underworld). Maybe it was just scared and wanted to have a somber conversation to alleviate its swollen mind.

I had not eaten in six days, and I was sick of sun berries and trail moss. I wanted beast. I licked my frothy lips and thought about a nice big fire that I would make to cook the body of the beast. I would start with the legs, for the legs were already broken and easily ready to Shish Kabob; then, I would make my way up, eating the stomach’s organs, the ribs, the arms, etc. I wouldn’t eat the head because that was a bad omen.

I wasn’t paying too much attention to the desperate creature festering on the blood-soaked grass; I had been watching some blue Eidolon sparrows flapping above my face. In my blinded acumen, the beast surreptitiously crawled away; then, it picked up some sort of freakish momentum and took off, even with its legs busted beyond Eidolon. I took a step back, frantically looking through my tools for a special rock that I use for killing busted creatures. I couldn’t find the right rock, so I threw some less significant rocks at it. Horribly, it picked up its own meaty legs and disappeared into the thickets just beyond the area where I had laid my trap.

“Shit,” I muttered, collecting my tools because I had made something of a small mess, and I hate being disorganized, especially when a fucking beast was loose.

The dark trees shook from the cowering beast. Its haunting howl echoed through the trees, shaking the earth and core. I howled back an intimidating cry, but it came out weak because I was six-day hungry.

“I’m going to catch you and eat the fuck out of you!” I threatened the trees from which it was hiding. “You can’t go far on two busted legs! I can’t wait to Shish Kabob said legs! Yum!”

The trees stopped moving. I closely listened for any lingering telltale from the beast. There was none. Maybe it had bled out from its injuries—which would have made my life a lot easier, to be honest. Then, I found my rock-busting-creature tool; I changed my eyes into hunt-prism binoculars and studied the winds, deciphering the last known source of the cacophony.

As I came upon the center of the clearing, there was nothing but empty grass. I noticed the small, galloping puddles of blood here and there, but no beast.

“No beast,” I said out loud. I was starting to get agitated.

“Okay, you win! Coo! I will leave you at peace with the winds! Coo! Coo!” I was just taunting the beast (this was called strategy). Yesteryear, I had only used the lure of my lullaby-taunts to catch many rapid-hell creatures. My derision also attracted protein-spiked insects and low-bursting neon flies (A good catch, these flies being as big as my fist).

“Ha-la-la-la! Ha-la-la-la!” I chanted from a canopy. I enlarged my hearing to beacon in any beast-like buzzing. Okay, the beast was probably running scared right now. I probably intimidated it even more so than when my trap impaled and blasted his legs straight out. I knew it could still travel great distances—with or without legs—so I must be quick. Before starting on my dire hunt, I stretched my hunt muscles because the last time I just took off running, trying to catch a Neptune cricket, I had twisted both my ankles and almost starved to death.

I kissed the ground. Then, I ran into the migrating tree game, loaded with my tools, heart heavy with hunt, eyes like a demon huntsman. My feet slapped the ground for half a second, and then I was carried off by the cool wind. I almost saw the top of the canopy as I leaped super high to pass over a small creek. I saw a couple of Eon doves in the clouds, and I would have reached out and grabbed one, but I didn’t care much for Eon doves because they are said to be unholy servants of the forest, and I needed the forest on my side, just until I can catch up to the beast, somewhere in the forest, without legs or whatever, probably hiding or asking said Eon doves for unholy protection.

“I am the highest consciousness in all the forest!” I yelled into the trees, hoping it would hear me and surrender its beast-nectar to my appetite. “I can go so high up in the canopy that I would be able to spot you in a split second. Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid. Sorry, but today, you are destined to be transmogrified into my body!”

I landed and caught my breath. I looked around and threw a rock into the darkness of the trees, just to see if anything would shake. Nothing happened. I walked deeper into the darkness. I must have lost my way because none of these dripping trees looked familiar, and I would have remembered said trees. I knew monsters were looming close by, so I had to be careful now. I checked my tools again, making sure I had the right rock-weapons. I did not.

“Shit,” I said.

I hummed a therapeutic lullaby to calm my hesitant heart. I needed to be very calm right now because I knew the beast was close; I noticed some of the dripping trees had a green phlegmy substance on the north side of said trees.

“It is hurt,” I said knowingly.

The beast did not have much life left, I gathered. Deeper, I walked. My eyes were super-focused, examining every single leaf flapping in the trees, every blade of grass finger-picking in the fields. I took note of all the spicy insects and candy-colored slugs; I was growing hungry, and I did not want to experience a seven-day hunger. I felt wary under the empyrean canopy, adapting well enough to its environment. I trusted the magnanimous essence of the forest (I was not an expendable creature that can be consumed). I promised to offer the forest the bones of the beast. It was said that keeping a beast’s bones was a bad omen, and I certainly needed no nefarious spirits creeping between my toes, watching me while I slept in the canopy. The forest went on forever, it seemed. Suddenly, I did not feel very safe anymore. I looked around my surroundings: everything was alive and existing perfectly. The trees were still growing. I could still hear the nectar flute birds somewhere in the fading sky. A few scum bats waved through the air as if trying to send out a toothless beacon.

“It will be dark soon,” I said. “Turn around. Go back to the canopy,” I told myself and hummed another therapeutic lullaby. I did not know if I was still hungry because I had gotten used to not eating for six days, and what was one more day without a beast banquet? Maybe I might have caught another beast in my trap. The idea made me feel good, so I just cursed the other beast, the one that vanished without its fucking legs.