I know I’m small; it’s not my fault. My brothers and I were cloned to be like this; small and green; pretty but deadly. Pale green like the tender shoots of plants in spring with touches of a delicate pink; I’m the deceiver, the destroyer; I eradicate. I am the purchased assassin in this garden.
I do not march; my skills are of a different kind; I stand and wait. My sweet, spring-like green stems carry two lightly capped amphorae; rounded, voluptuous, each curve gently highlighted in the sweetest blush, with a precious liquid deep inside that attracts the hungry enemy to my door. What is that gentle perfume, that sweet smelling nectar? “Come on in,” I think; “you will find out.” And I wait. The pretty cup is lined inside with a soft and gentle fuzz, a zillion hairs to soften and smooth your path deeper and deeper inside. It’s one way into the chalice, my insect friend; you do not know but you will find that this is how I kill. I will suck your juices; I will dissolve your bones. I will feed.
It’s lonely here. Except for some silly, oozing pygmy sundews I am solitary in my watch. All my insidious skills go to protecting the growing lettuces that share my tender colors but not my deadly, single minded purpose. More red; more green; growing with careless abandon, they foolishly succor the enemy; offering space between their roots to the offspring and allowing the enemy to nibble on their dying leaves; to grow fat and breed; the fools. The enemy is everywhere; in the ground and in the air. They taunt me with their freedom and their flight. I can only guess the extent of my master’s domain while they visit far and wide. But they come back to feed.
But more fool I; for those who I protect go on to become salad. For pity sake; I guard salad!
But I was not cloned to question but to serve. I will stand here alone; the calculated result of an insidious breeding program by monsters who seek to combine traits of subtle beauty and deadly appetites in ever smaller packages. I was created and purchased for this purpose. I am Fred the Assassin.
I will file more reports from the field as necessary.
I owe you all a serious article about Fred, his pygmy sundew friends and the fungus gnats that I want them to control under the lights but I attended a session for writers on building character at Thayer Memorial Library yesterday and well, here we are. Thank you to Winona and the Seven Bridge Writer’s Collaborative for the opportunity.