A CATHARTIC FABLE

Once upon a time, there was a desert.

Actually the edge of a desert. The portion of the desert where sand and heat begin to give way to cactus, and tumbleweed, and rock. The colors of the desert here were beautiful. On a background of sandy brown were the greens of a little bit of brush and the vivid colors of layered rock outcroppings. The sky frequently helped by turning amazing shades of red, violet, and blue.

Things lived in the desert, at the desert’s edge. Predators. Snakes of many varieties, each more poisonous than the other, traveled the desert. There was the occasional coyote. Vultures would sometimes take wing over the desert to see what the other predators had left for them. And of course, there were the insects.

On a small patch of desert, at the edge of the desert, there lived a scorpion. She was quick and agile and a talented predator. This was her domain, and if some other living thing came near her, she would dart out and grab the insect or small animal with her claw, and then flip her tail up and sting the catch with her deadly venom. The scorpion is feared by the other living things in the desert, and she was the ruler of this patch of desert - her domain.

She had only one concern and one fear – and one hatred. On the other edge of this small patch of desert, at the desert’s edge, only inches away, lived a centipede. The centipede was also a quick and agile and talented predator. He would hide behind a rock on his edge of the patch of desert and when some unsuspecting insect or small animal came near, he would quickly slither up and clutch the insect or animal with his pinchers. Opening his mandibles very wide, he would bite the creature and inject it with his venom. He could then devour the meal he had killed.

The scorpion knew about the centipede. She hated the centipede, but couldn’t attack or kill the centipede, because she wasn’t sure how powerful the centipede was or sure of the strength of it’s venom. The centipede knew about the scorpion and hated the scorpion. He wasn’t able to attack or kill the scorpion, because he wasn’t sure how powerful her venom was, or how strong she was. He knew only that she was a dangerous adversary, and a rival for the meals that should rightfully be his. She, on the other hand, knew only that he was a dangerous adversary and that he was a rival for her food and existence. They lived inches away from one another, with an uneasy truce between predators and a mutual fear and hatred being the only thing that held them apart; while a feeling that each was the rightful owner and sovereign of this patch of desert being the only thing that kept them both in this place.

The spider was a predator in his own right. Although not as lethal as the scorpion or the centipede, he was feared by most insects and small animals in the desert. But the spider did not know about the scorpion and her hatred of the centipede. And he did not know of the centipede and his fear of the scorpion. The spider traveled the desert, doing what predators do. Killing and eating.

Into the patch of desert at the desert’s edge came the spider. As he scurried thought the patch of desert, his movement startled the scorpion in her hiding place behind a brush. She thought to herself that her old enemy, the centipede, had finally decided to attack her.

That same movement of the spider scurrying through the desert patch caught the attention of the centipede, hiding behind a rock. He instantly was convinced by the movement that his enemy the scorpion was getting ready to attack him.

At the same time, the scorpion and the centipede zipped out from hiding and rushed toward one another. There – in the middle of the patch of desert, between the two adversaries was the spider. He was not sure which way to turn; attention to the scorpion would surely leave him open to attack and death at the hands of the centipede. Attention to the centipede would mean that he would be the scorpion’s next victim. He froze in place, trying to watch the movements and intentions of both dangerous insects.

The two rival predators moved at the same time.

The scorpion shot forward in the direction of the centipede, but the spider blocked her way. She grabbed the spider with her claw, and her tail whipped viciously back and forth, in an angry frenzy.

The centipede made for the scorpion, but the spider was there between them. The centipede seized the spider with his pinchers. His dozens and dozens of feet stamped and shuffled, and he shook his head side to side, exposing his venomous mandibles.

The spider was helpless. And the two rivals froze.

The scorpion thought to herself, “If I sting the spider and kill it, then the centipede will attack me, and it could be the death of me. I can’t hold the spider after it dies, and still defend myself”

The centipede thought to itself, “If I bite the spider and kill it, then the scorpion will surely turn her attention toward me, and I will be vulnerable, holding the dead spider and trying to protect myself.”

The spider, in the tight grasp of the claws of the scorpion and the pinchers of the centipede, was unable to move or do anything.

The scorpion, eyes shifting side to side, and tail slashing the air with a deadly, menacing threat, didn’t move. She stood firm, holding onto her turf and her belonging. She was angry and frightened of the centipede, and would take no chances.

The centipede, feet and body undulating up and down all along his length, and jaws dripping with deadly poison, didn’t move. He stood firm. This was his, and she had no right to it, but he feared her and was being careful that she should not prevail.

The sun moved slowly through the sky. The three insects were frozen in that tableau of death and standoff for many, many minutes. The minutes stretched into an hour, then two. The sun arced through the entire sky, and twilight settled in.

Just at that point in the evening when insects are scurrying for cover and other, flying predators are assuming prominence in the desert, the sky exploded in hues and colors that were beautiful and that belied the death and carnage that was the nature of the desert.

The two insects stood, holding fast to the third, without relinquishing a tiny bit of territory, angry and fearful, fearful and angry.

Then there was a screech.

Millions of years of insect heritage told all three insects that death was impending. Immediately the scorpion thrust her tail into the spider’s back. At exactly the same moment the centipede bit into the spiders side. The spider was dead instantly. The combined venom from both of the other insects took immediate effect.

At the moment the spider went limp, the scorpion questioned her decision. She turned in an attempt to find an appropriate hiding place for the night. She hurried toward her brush.

The centipede, sensing that doom was at hand, turned from his hated and feared rival and from the scavenges of the standoff, and started to scurry away, intent on finding shelter from the night.

Dawn brought more glorious color to this beautiful patch of desert, at the desert’s edge. Extremely pale blues, and a sun that was blinding and bright and warm.

The scorpion looked quickly from behind her cover and saw that some night- flying predator had taken the spider. Her rightful spoils of war. Her hatred of the centipede increased. The scorpion went back to doing what she did best. Hiding behind her brush. Hating the centipede. Making sure that he did not get something that was rightfully hers. Wishing that he were not there, yet fearing a direct confrontation and battle.

The centipede looked out from behind his cover and saw that the spider carcass was missing. No succulent breakfast for him. He loathed the scorpion even more. He went back to the life that he had come to know. The scorpion was his enemy, and he would not permit her to get what should rightfully be his. He wished that she were gone, but he did not know how to confront or defeat her.

So the scorpion waited, and continued to live that life of hatred and fear. So did the centipede. Best friends in their emotions. Needing the enemy, needing someone as rival, even more than the meal that they worried that the enemy might steal.

And they lived on the beautiful edge of a desert.