Protective Coloration (Excerpt)
 
...It was like five swallows in a row had swooped past my window, or like someone had putted five golf balls, one after another, from high in the left to low on the right: Zip, zip-zip-zip, zip. I whirled, stood up too fast, knocked my tea off the desk to spill across the floor. The mug bounced harmlessly into a corner—good thing, too; I loved that mug—but the oversteeped darjeeling was going to permanently dye the carpet. I thwacked my left calf sharply against my chair. I knew immediately that it would not only bruise but swell up into a painful lump I'd feel with every step for a week. And still I could see nothing, nothing, nothing out the window!

But I kept looking. I refused to accept that I'd stained the brand new carpet and temporarily hobbled myself for nothing, nothing, nothing. I craned to see as far as I could to the right, but of course there was just the short length of the patio wall's "L". I peered over the wall and saw nothing but the goldenrain tree and the sky.

Then I looked down at the windowsill. Not because I wanted to. Because I was compelled. It was as though two barbed hooks had caught just above each cheekbone and yanked my face down. I looked, and I saw the tiny creature on my windowsill.
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This has been an excerpt from the Friday Fictionette for July 17, 2015. Subscribers can download the full-length fictionette (1159 words) from Patreon in PDF or MP3 format depending on their pledge tier.

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Cover art photography by Nicole J. LeBoeuf, who is rather pleased with how the flower boxes turned out.