Ben - Chapter Eighteen

Energised from the enthusiasm that hung in the air, Ben was able to skip forward and cover a great distance with surprising ease. The cooler weather had been kind to his old cables and white feet. Unlike other creatures, these rabbits were quite adept with the looming cold.

The rain had finally stopped, but a mist hung in the air like a bag of expired dates. The smell was unique, like a snail lamenting a large gambling loss on the third stag party of the year. The smell of suitcases full of willy warmers tossed from a sheltering toadstool by a partner scorned.

The mighty and mysterious steel was getting closer - the driving wind playing an orchestra of flayed wires and eerie flutes. An unpredictable tune telling of carnage and danger in unison. Protruding from the distance, a large circular object with blades showing, twisted and crafted from something that was beautiful into something far less so.

The smell of something else hung in the air, as if to signify that the winter was indeed coming. That familiar warm smell added to the mystery. Ben had only known this from the rattled motorcar he abandoned, citing irreconcilable differences with all but the lowest gear.

Then the punchline came, and not even one this narrator could contemplate. Hissing slowly and then screaming loudly, it arrived like a caterpillar in a tin of tequila and landed on Ben’s face, right between his eyes.