After a rainy summer, the mosquito population was thriving. The population was so dense, they formed clouds in the garden at sunset. A young woman was fond of spending the evening in her garden, and though the previous season’s drought had withered her flowers, but she had appreciated the lack of pests. This year, she found herself constantly irritated by the buzzing in her ears and the bites on her skin. No matter what repellents she used, they always attack her.
One night, a mosquito landed on the woman’s hand while she was trying to meditate. In her anger, she slapped the insect with such force that blood spattered across her skin.
Have I spilled the mosquito’s blood, or my own? she wondered.
Allyson Whipple is a poet, amateur naturalist, and perpetual student living in Austin, Texas. She is the author of two chapbooks, most recently Come Into the World Like That (Five Oaks Press, 2016). Allyson teaches business and technical communication at Austin Community College and enjoys hiking in the Texas Hill Country.
Twitter: @avocadoallyson | Instagram: @avocadoallyson