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Main Entry: vi·gnette, \vin-'yet\ Function: noun

a: a short descriptive literary sketch b : a brief incident or scene.

The body made its way clumsily through the underbrush.  The well manicured lawn had given way to scrub brush and saplings.   The creature's arms reached out, using trees as support, as it made its way through the woods.  Even so, it still fell forward on its face several times; cutting and gouging exposed skin.  There was no pain; there was no thought; only a hunger that pushed it forward.   The wind was blowing, making the trees rustle in the night.  The sound of distant traffic could be heard over the noise the leaves made.  The sound had no meaning to the creature, beyond an innate knowledge that food could be found where the noise was.  Soon, the twinkling of lights could be seen.  Shadows played through the woods, as cars passed by.  The creature felt what could only be described as excitement; food was closer.  Its movement became more purposeful and agitated.

The woods suddenly sloped downward.  The creature picked up even more speed.  By now the wind had picked up even more.  The creature strained through the darkness and could make out a pool of light at the bottom of the hill, with two figures huddled together under it.  Its mind had no recollection of what made the light; it only understood that food was at hand.   It picked up its pace even more, careening down the hill.  Suddenly, as it put its foot down, it found itself stepping into nothing.  Its weak grip on a sapling could not keep it from pitching forward.  The body tumbled down, landing in a heap in a shallow stream with a splash.  A snap, and a twist and the jagged end of a bone protruded from its left arm.  The creature ignored the damage.  It began to struggle to its feet.

Leroy handed James the small pistol, keeping the larger one for himself.  James looked at it under the flickering light on the side of the liquor store, then back at Leroy.  "We really gonna do this L-Roy?"

"Yes, we is", was the reply.  Leroy had to speak up, as the wind had picked up.  It smelled like rain.  A gust of wind almost drowned him out completely.  "Don't go soft on me, nigga.  We's gonna walk in there, and I's gonna stick this gat in the Korean's face and gits us the money.  You watch my back, and make sure nobody comes in while I is takin' care of  bizness.  Now come on."  Leroy turned and headed around the corner of the building, towards the front. 

As the body made it to its feet, it could see the figures standing not far away.  They huddled together, talking.  The creature’s mind could not make that distinction.  All it was aware of was that food was almost within its reach. It viewed the two individuals as nothing more than prey.  It clawed at the muddy bank, pulling itself out of the stream bed; always keeping an eye on its prey.  Suddenly, the two turned and started to move away, out of the pool of light.  They made their way around the building they stood next to.  As the first one disappeared from view, the creature's actions grew more frantic and it gave out a moan of frustration. 

James stopped by the corner of the building.  He thought he heard something in the woods behind them.  He thought that he had heard a moan.  The wind had really picked up, and rustling through the tree tops was loud.  James nervously swallowed, maybe Leroy was right.  Maybe, he was going soft.  He had no desire to go back to lockup, especially on a two bit armed robbery.  He looked at Leroy, who had made it to the door already.  He realized that at this point, he really didn't have a choice.  He was committed and to back out now would forever label him as a pussy in the hood.  Loosing cred was worse than doing time.  He swallowed hard, gripped the handle of the .25 auto in his hand a bit tighter and headed towards the door.

It was a little after midnight, and business had been slow.  It always was when a storm was rolling in.  They had just finished sweeping, and Mr. Kim sat behind the counter, mindlessly flipping through a sports magazine.  Suddenly the front door burst open.  Two young black men charged through.  Instantly, one of them had a large pistol in his hand, pointed at Mr. Kim.  He froze, not out of fear, but rather out of habit.  Being next to a rougher part of town, Kim's Liquor had been robbed 15 times in the twelve years he had owned it.  Only once had things escalated to violence.  Usually, there was just  lots of cursing and the loss of maybe a few hundred dollars and some alcohol.  Insurance paid for it all, and it wasn’t worth losing his life over.  As long as nobody did anything stupid, everything would be ok.

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