by Tracy Davidson
No longer a child. Time to prove his manhood.
Some called the strange creatures in the next valley ‘monsters’, others ‘aliens’.
Whichever, they were not welcome.
For three days he watched over their settlement, tracked their movements. Mused over their peculiar shapes, unwieldy gaits, discordant voices.
On the fourth day, one creature wandered off alone, carrying something on a stick.
Taran’s knife broke the creature’s head shell with ease, exposing grotesque bulging
eyes. Taran took them as a gift for his father.
For his mother, he took the colourful cloth on a stick. She would like the stars and stripes.
Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Atlas Poetica, Writing Magazine, Modern Haiku, The Binnacle, A Hundred Gourds, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR and In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.