Predator and Prey

Blood on the pillowcase suggests foul play: there’s been a death here. Red splotches on the sheet and the wall against the bed make it look as if there was a struggle. The corpses that continue to cling to the netting, and there are many, confirm all suspicions.

No fewer than four mosquitoes infiltrated our safe zone last night, and upon flicking on the light to find and eliminate our unwanted guests, I discovered another four resting on the net along the length of my body. They must have been lethargic after a big meal; crushing them into the wall left smears of blood on both the white net and the green paint, the crumpled body of the bugs in the middle like a bull’s eye.

It’s enough to give a person nightmares.

I’m afraid that a mother mosquito managed to hatch a brood somewhere inside our apartment. About two weeks ago there was a wave small, slow, and dumb mosquitoes—up to at least twenty over the course of one evening. Now my even greater fear is that we didn’t manage to catch and kill all of that batch and that the cycle will repeat itself. How does one solve a problem such as this? Move out.


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