And that which we seek
to control will destroy
us in the end

by Rachel Abbey McCafferty 

The creature was the size of a quarter when it dragged itself from the sea, gills shuddering and fins scraped bloody.

It lay in the muck, chest heaving, pulse slowing, until a small bug skittered near, all legs. The thing darted out its tongue and ate it whole and was revived.

The creature pulled itself to the soft ground near where the grass grew along the sand and dug itself a hole in which to sleep. It crawled inside, the cool earth covering its battered body.

There it stayed for four days and three nights until hunger called it into the moonlight.

This time, it took a small, soft lizard. After the next slumber-wake-hunger cycle, it stalked and took a bird.

The creature grew.

The creature moved from birds to squirrels to rabbits, moles to gophers to groundhogs. Still it hungered.

One day, the creature took a deer, a full-grown buck, antlers clashing. The deer had not stood a chance against the creature’s open maw.

The creature grew, an ecosystem unencumbered.

Until the humans arrived.

At first, the humans were afraid of the creature big enough to blot out the sun. They took care to hide from its watchful eyes, seeking shelter far from the caves it called home. They left it sacrifices: mongooses, goats, giraffes. The more literal minded among them simply wanted to feed the beast; the mythologically motivated wanted to placate it, to seek its favor. The creature devoured it all, sometimes snaking a wide strong tail out of the shadows to knock a believer within.

Generations passed; the humans remained. Some feared, some revered, some reviled. As the humans gained power, catching fire in a jar, a steady stream in a jug, they resented the creature in the cave that refused control. The acolytes left their offerings; the agitators cleared the remains before they could disappear into the dark.

The creature grew hungry, desperate, an atmosphere crackling and charged.

And when it dared to venture into the light, the humans met it with bayonets and daggers. They met it with pocket knives and hand guns. They met it with ropes and chains and shackles and cages. They believed they could catch it, capture it, hold it in place. The humans did not want to destroy the creature.

They wanted to control it.

They wanted to use its strength against others, corral and redirect its rage as an avatar for theirs. They wanted it to consume on their behalf. They wanted its survival corrupted for their desires. They rushed toward it, slashing and stabbing, nets drawn taut.

And the creature opened its great, wide mouth and swallowed the earth whole.