Ben - Chapter Twenty Four

As Ben had skipped another day without adventure, he was reminded each evening of his luck and those he had temporarily departed. He would skip and then sit routinely, counting his grayed whiskers with thanks as each descent into such a colour signified another day survived.

This would be reinforced by the loud cackling crackles of burps that would erupt at sundown, as these giant bears would pass another unfortunate to their gullets for dinner and then show their appreciation in the form of vocal rumbles from their belly to the sky. Nature’s sense of one-upmanship was truly alive in these ghastly and fascinating creatures.

It should also be made pertinent to note that this rabbit had thrown off the scourge of his habit of creating and drawing in the paper wrapped fiery brown leaf. Thoughts of wooden cloaks and a developed raspy cough had realigned this rabbits dreams, and the tin with all its false promises was cast downriver never to be seen again.

A new spring had arrived in step and just in time for the emerging spring. White leaves were turning green once again. Winged and feathered worm-eating day bats would fill the air with covers of last year, and ground greens could suck the bright from the sky in.

There was an energy in his step. Akin to a five year old in a fast-food restaurant, Ben had found another zeal that perhaps shaved half his age away. This large-metal in the distance was getting closer and more visible.