the demise of peter rabbit

he thought anything was possible out of the hole he climbed and into the light and cool of morning eager to stretch his legs after being below ground for so long. through the garden he raced his bare feet landing pitter patter on the soft soil damp with dew. he was looking for something for something towards something he raced ears perked but not paying attention really. it was as he rounded the bend and appeared in front of the porch that he was shot.

on the ground he lay and looked at the sky, blue, creased with clouds, and he would die with his eyes open.