Sanctuary

The small ant named Fred rushed as fast as he could across the sand. This was not good. He had strayed far from the other workers and was now alone in foreign territory, far away from the anthill he called home. This wouldn't be so bad, but he repeatedly found himself in situations that were more than dangerous, and very likely to end in his death. He was almost eaten by some of the largest bugs he'd ever seen, and now was being chased by a giant creature.

He saw safety up ahead: an anthill. It wasn't home, but it looked enough like it that it should be able to provide a much needed respite in his time of trial. He dove into the network of tunnels that made up the complex anthill. Sanctuary.

The other ants looked at him with disdain: he was not one of them. He looked similar, alright, but he didn't have the features of a worker from their camp. Nor did he have the same care and concern for his fellow ants: he was a loner, and loners are not welcome in the ant world. You stick together or you deserve the fate that comes your way.

The ants were about to rally around and kick this no-good loner wanderer out of their territory when the giant creature did something none of the ants had expected: he stomped down on the anthill with a mighty power unknown to them. The ants who were not squashed in the immediate attack ran as fast as they could, searching for whatever safe position they could find: behind plants, bushes, trees, etc. Unfortunately, there was little else besides sand around for quite a distance, and the sand was no sanctuary if not built up in a large hill.

And, as they realized all too painfully: even a large hill of sand is no sanctuary against intruders of the giant sort. Their life was hard, their comrades were dead, and their existence was over. These ants who survived, the loners, looked on as the giant creature stomped his way into the sunset, over the fallen bodies of their dear friends.

Fred cursed the day he had been born and continued his search for safety and sanctuary, knowing he would never find what he was looking for, but looking nonetheless, for this was his destiny.

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This post is an installment in a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Enoch Allred of Chiltingham, John Allred of clol Town, Jon Fairbanks of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Eli Z. McCormick and Miriam Allred of Modern Revelation!, John D. Moore of Whatnot Studios, William C. Stewart of Chide, Chode, Chidden, Sven Patrick Svensson of Sadness? Euphoria?, and WiL Whitlark of The Real McJesus. This week's theme: 'Sanctuary'.