The Dragonfly

As I approached home, the very last of the dying sunlight was giving way to night. Shrouded by a drizzly rain, my brightly-lit house seemed to stand out as a beacon of domesticity, like a lighthouse shining out over a foggy sea.

Stepping through the front door, I surveyed the living room and HOLY SHIT

Calmly attached to the inside of the mesh window cover was a fucking massive dragonfly. God knows how it had managed to get inside, although my best guess was that it had simply headbutted its way through the brick wall. It seemed as though every time I looked away, it increased in size; at first the size of a Satsuma, it quickly grew to the size of an apple, a mango, and finally the size of a watermelon.

It was in this moment that I realised the name "dragonfly" was particularly apt, even if this specimen was more dragon then fly. Were it any bigger, it could have had a guest-star role on Game of Thrones.

I decided to overcome my trepidation and move in closer for an inspection. It truly was a scientific marvel, as it was perhaps the first invertebrate in the world to have a well-developed set of biceps and pectorals. I could have been mistaken, but I swear I could've seen tattoos. It looked like it would beat me up for my lunch money and give me a wedgie. It was at least the size of my fist. I have no doubt that if I'd tried to punch it in self-defence, it would have simply caught my hand.

I tried to put it out of my mind, but by now it was triggering a primordial fight-or-flight reaction. Part of me hoped that when I turned around it would somehow disappear, but I realised on second thought that this would have only meant I wouldn't know where it was. At least whilst it was attached to the window I had an idea of his location.

How long was it going to stay? Would I need to give it a name? Share the wifi password? Make sacrificial offerings? Clearly, it was his house now, and I was just a guest. I decided to do the only thing I could: go upstairs to my bathroom and hope that it would spare my life.

I came down 20 minutes later to find that my mother-in-law had shooed it out the window.

...but would it return?

Probably not.