A Good Night For Lizards

In the dying daylight, an oppressive, hazy heat hung like a second stratosphere among the vine-covered columns of an ancient white building. Tiny green lizards darted from under ivy leaves, their glottal sacs puffing in the thick air as each lizard simultaneously hunted for potential mates and fat weedflies. Sex and sustenance. It was all this world seemed to support. The world was wild here. Simple, and deceptive. It was just how Suby liked it.

Suby was collecting the lizards. He knew that the heat and the darkness brought them out into the open and he grinned just a little as he kept in mind how the dumb things seemed to forget to disguise themselves at dusk, turning a deep, blood colored crimson that contrasted almost unfairly against the white of the buildings and the green of the ivy. It was easy pickings and he knew it. Over his shoulder he’d slung a long black stocking that was quite evidently too long for his own stubby legs. At the open end of it, a tattered web of what used to be white lace barely clung to the rim of the stocking. It flopped up and down when he shifted the stocking in his grasp. But what really kept it active was the myriad tiny bumps and protrusions that betrayed his precious cargo: the huge sock was filled with once-red lizards that were now turning ashy gray or black in their anger. It was a good night for lizards, Suby thought.