The day was not meant to be as this. It was to be, as any other day in the lives of the two, sunny and filled with the play only little ones think of. Until they made the condemning choice, as it were, to follow. How could they have known what lay ahead or what they would endure for the offered promise of fun?

Laughing and playing, they followed their new leader. Only when the reality of what was to come reared its ugly head, did their amusement cease. But it was far too late. The die was cast; their fate spread before them.

They fought valiantly, the two, much more valiantly than one would expect from ones so small. Theirs was not an easy death, though death is never easy, even when it’s expected, even when it’s welcomed. For these it was neither expected nor welcomed; it was feared. With every fiber of their tiny beings, it was feared.  Strands of life calling forth for their maker, pleading for rescue from what was predestined to be their end.

Gaping into the face of their mortality, as the crushing weight pressing upon them would no longer allow their chests to rise for the taking in of life saving air, even then, they resisted death’s hunter. Squirming first one way, then another, searching for the one elusive breath which would afford them one last attempt at freedom, the freedom they would not be allowed to attain.

The flailing slowed, the panic diminished. The epic labor between Life and Death finally ceased.

And he laughed.