Writers are asked again and again, “Where do you get your ideas?” Many of mine begin from observations I have in my living room. This story was inspired by a wasp behind the curtains in my living room.
Tray had just sat down when he saw the wasp. He swallowed, leaving his mouth dry.
The wasp bounced behind a sheer, white curtain, unable to escape through the opening between the curtain and its partner. Then it dropped out of sight behind the red couch.
Tray’s eyes studied the spot where the wasp had made its retreat, a lone guerilla lost in the jungle that was Tray’s living room. If Tray had been a warrior, he would’ve jumped up out of his chair, picked up a broom and whacked that beastie out of the ball park. Tray was not a warrior. He was allergic to wasp stings.
The wasp rose from behind the couch in front of the curtains. It had managed to find its way through the curtain parting.
Tray sat, frozen to his chair. His eyes followed the wasp’s movement.
The insect lit on the top of the back of the couch, and it glared at Tray. It was ready for hand-to-hand combat.
Try held his breath and hoped. What he was hoping for, there was no telling. Maybe the wasp would fly into something so hard, it would fall and die.
An itch came upon Tray ever so slightly. And the itch wasn’t just any place. It was on his bottom. Over the next little while, it grew until it became intense. It was the kind of itch that makes each minute seem like an eternity.
The wasp rose into the air and flew back and forth across the room from couch to door to wall to door..
From the left to the right, from the right to the left, Tray’s eyes followed the wasp, making its maneuvers.
A shot of adrenaline rushed through Tray’s body. Out of desperation, he willed his body to move. Ignoring his fear, ignoring his itch, he stood up and rushed to the front door.
The wasp was on his tail.
Tray grabbed the door knob and turned and jerked. The door gave. It opened.
Tray fell to the floor. He felt the wasp fly just above his body. His eyes watched as the wasp escaped its prison and fly to the freedom outside. A second wasp passed the insect through the door and over to the red couch.