Blood Sucker

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A mosquito lived in our room in Marseille. He was a sneaky little thing, landing and biting when you least expected it. We didn't discover his presence until the second morning, after we realized we had little itchy bumps on our bodies... the work of a mosquito. Last night, we heard him, we swatted at him, but he got away every time. I woke up around 6am this morning to hear him buzzing around my head. I went completely under the sheets, leaving a little room for fresh air, hoping he wouldn't find me. Tim slapped himself in the face.
“So I guess you're awake too,” I said.
“Yup. You heard him?”
“Yup.”
The light goes on. But the mosquito knows what's up, and stays away. He knows he is being hunted. The light goes back off, and he regains his courage after about five mintues, making his way closer to our faces. We hear the buzzing again. Tim swats and claps mid-air.
“Did you get him?”
“I don't know...” The light goes on. “I don't think so.” Tim is empty handed. “Oh wait. Yup, there he is.”
And there he was, the mosquito who terrorized, finally dead.

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