The Last Paradox

**Jax** · 07-17-2010, 11:15 PM

When I first came to smallstreams and had no idea what I was doing, I posted this little piece in the Visitors Book.

Thought I might re-submit it at this time for those of you who may have missed it earlier. Have Fun. Jax

The Last Paradox

No movement other than the flicker of an eyelid betrayed the Old Predators presence as he scanned the ambush site for movement his trusty weapon of choice clasped in a sinewy right hand. He had taken up his chosen position at the side of the clearing while the sun descended ever lower on its slow arc to the western horizon and temporary oblivion.
Past experience had taught the old man well. He was well aware of the suns reluctance to surrender its position of dominance to the approaching darkness. He was also aware that this struggle for dominance would probably allow him enough light by which to carry out his mission. He knew he would need to act swiftly and silently if he was to succeed.
Observations from two previous sorties with some careful stalking, had determined where and when would be the best time and position from which to strike with the greatest chance of success. His preys inbred instinct for survival and uncanny ability to sense imminent danger, coupled with excellent vision, made an undetected attack across the open clearing almost impossible in daylight.
The Old Man’s enquiries indicated that others had tried to claim this Quarry for themselves, and in failing, had made the prey even more alert and cautious. So it was that word of this situation filtered out into the ether and came to the Old Man’s attention. It was the notion this prey could not be taken in the normal course of events that had brought the Old Man forward to accept the unspoken challenge.
As the last of the suns rays were forced below the horizon by the relentless advance of the darkness that is night, an almost imperceptible tremor passed through the Old Mans frame. The prey had revealed its position over on the far side of the clearing.
Slowly, smoothly and silently the Old Man raised his trusty old weapon launcher. The twinge of an old shoulder injury went unheeded as the Old Man cast his weapon with smooth practiced precision.
The prey, lulled into a sense of security perhaps by the imminent cloak of darkness, had no inkling of danger as it edged further out into the clearing to feed.
The Old Mans weapon struck. The prey reeled under the unexpected impact and all balance momentarily lost, thought desperately of sanctuary. Swiftly, gathering all its available strength, the prey lunged in the direction of a nearby log only to be brought up short as an unknown force pulled it toward the far side of the clearing.
Having exhausted all its energy in many frantic but unsuccessful attempts to escape. The prey succumbed and gazed up into the eyes of the Old Man who bending down removed his weapon with a deft twist of a trembling hand.
The prey lay gasping in the shallow water at the Old man’s feet. Death was close very close. Gently almost tenderly the Old Man reached down and with trembling hands eased the prey out into deeper water and waited for it to swim off.
Although exhausted by its recent struggle, instinct drove the prey to flee to the safety of a nearby log from where it watched as the Old Man doffed his hat and strode off into the night. The prey would survive the Old Man had departed and tranquillity reigned once more on the trout stream.
The Old Man made his weary way home that night well satisfied with the outcome of this encounter. Along the way his thoughts turned to other possible encounters yet to come.

He was not to know that The Fates had decreed this to be his last conquest. Perhaps Fate will endow the next Predator with compassion for his Prey as well.
For if there is NO Prey. Where then the Predator?