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Rated: E · Short Story · Animal · #2155117
An alligator with a special life gets to experience real freedom for the first time.

The water is starting to feel too chilly, so I pull myself onto the banks of the little pond I call home, lazily moving up until the full beautiful length of my tail is at least a head from the water. At this point I flop into the soft ground and wait for the sun's warm rays to reach me. The blissful heat soaks through my thick green skin, caressing my muscles and lulling me to a gentle doze.

I think about what has happened in my life recently, not much really. Alligators don't have much to do, but I do get to go out sometimes. Just last week I was kidnapped by a large human male. I would be tempted to eat him for that, except that he also comes here often to feed me; and I do like food. Anyway, I'm too contented right now to be angry. You might even say that I'm blissful. Until I feel a heavy weight land on my back and two strong hands circle my jaw. Not again! This human creature is definitely asking for it this time!

He is much bigger than I am, but I'm very strong. I thrash and wiggle under his weight, hoping to throw him off me and get him to release my jaws. The moment he does he will feel the sharp sting of my wrath on any part of his body I can reach with my razor-sharp teeth.

I suddenly remember how last time he kidnapped me he called me a "five-year-old gator". I also remember the first time I ever went out, how I was surrounded by so many humans. A few of them were large ones like the one harassing me now, but mostly there were smaller humans. I would have been scared if I hadn't been so mad, but I would never admit it to my friends.

Anyway, I was just little then, barely the length of a head. Since then I have been out many times. Always the humans touch me. The first time I was frightened, and I tried as hard as I could to pretend I was dead, holding stiff and still. But after a while I realized the humans never hurt me when they touched and stroked my skin. Soon not only did it not bother me, but I found I kind of enjoyed the touches, especially when one of the humans would stroke my chin or the base of my head or tickle my belly, then it felt very nice to be touched.

The memories distract me, and I stop thrashing long enough that he's already put the foul wrapping around my jaws and covered my eyes. I give up. What is the point of fighting if I cannot see where to go? He's talking to me in soft murmuring tones now, I think "if only my mouth was free" ... but it is not. Soon I'm loaded into a box and the ground begins to rumble around me as it always does when I go out. I've grown used to this, too. I fall asleep and when I wake the human is opening my box. He removes the cover from my eyes and I can see!

There are many little humans here, and he's holding me in the air so they can all see me. He will say things I have heard many times before. And then they will start touching me. I feel a little agitated still. I look into the eyes of the little humans as they stare intently at me, their soft human eyes seem so untrustworthy. Anything can be hidden in eyes like those. The human puts me back into the box and closes the lid. He continues to talk. He says words that sound like "python", "wild", and "trees". I can hear the humans inhale sharply, but I'm much more interested in the light I can see through a hole in my box.

This light hasn't been in the box the other times I've been out. This time there is a hole. I push up against the hole with my snout, it gives ever so slightly. I push harder. The box creaks quietly as it gives way, little by little, and soon a hole large enough for me to push my head through has opened in my box. My head is out of the box and one of my front feet. Now both front feet, I struggle to squeeze the rest of my body through the opening, all the way down to the tip of my tail. A thrill of freedom surges through me.

It lasts only a moment before I realize the humans are all around me. I move forward to a stand of bushes straight ahead of me. Most of this path is next to a grouping of boxes. There is, however, one small space where I have nothing to hide behind. In that moment, out of the corner of my eye I can see all the little humans staring intently at the big human man who has now caught a very large yellow something. I slide into the stand of bushes unnoticed.

On the other side of my bush is freedom, freedom as sweet and delicious as the birds I catch at my pond. I smell water and head toward the source. A very small round pond with a high bank is there, not far away, off to my right. I reach the bank and climb, with very little difficulty, over the hard, stiff bank and slide into the lovely water. The temperature is perfect; not too warm, not too cool. There are no plants here, and no fish, but this pond will do for a while. I realize I am hungry now. I am always hungry. And I am very good at hiding in water, so I will sit here and wait. Something small and tasty will come along soon. Now, to remove the wrapping from my jaws.

© Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Rosenburg (firefly23 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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