I heard the crunch of its gruesome and horrendous death. I witnessed the tearing and snapping of the creature. I imagine it felt the worst pains in those last few seconds of breath. It tried to move the rest of its body, whatever was left, but again there was a crunch. It tried to survive, finding strength to live and escape, but I did not let it. With immense fear, I crushed it to no breath. I did it mindlessly and in disgust, as Winston kicked the bodiless hand from the sidewalk in 1984. Mindlessly, as if it were no being at all, yet God had placed it on this Earth long before I existed. Had I a better right to live than it? No. But I was the one that survived, and the harmless, innocent creature died.

It had been black and small with wings that let it soar into the air, but it seemed to prefer to walk on its six legs, on the ground, in the dirt. It was naive, for I, much superior than it in every way, got very close and it didn’t back away. I was close enough to see its beady eyes and the crease that distinguished its two wings. I was afraid. My instinct was to kill it, to kill the filthy being, but not to get my hands dirty; so I did. I took a tin can and put it over the creature; realizing it had not touched it as a result of its hollow bottom, I pulled it off, expecting it to fly away or run, but it stayed still, staring. I should have recognized then, the courage the little black warrior had, but I continued my murderous task. I took the edge of the can and sliced God’s creature in two. That had not been enough, for the little soldier had strength, and so, frustrated, it tried to make its escape. I sliced it in two again before it could, and left the three pieces of its body lying on the ground. There were no witnesses, no blood, and no evidence that I had been the one to commit such an immoral act. I thought I had won the battle, but who had truly been the more helpless and courageous one, the small being or me?

Now minutes after completing such task, I realize that I had no reason, no right, to kill such a sinless creature probably only looking to survive as we all are. I had discriminated against it, associating it with disgust. I should have thought about where this creature really came from, from the miracles and beauty of nature which God provides us with every day. Although this was merely a small, black, beetle, it changed my whole outlook on the world. I have come to realize that I must be brave like this little being was in this cruel, unfair world, and look through others’ eyes to find truth. At least this little beetle died with honor, more honor than most people as it proved more courageous than me, and I shall always remember this little warrior, for it taught me a lot in a few seconds and without a single word or sound.