Fiction

I am taunted by the God of the flies

I am taunted by the God of the flies. At least, I was. I heard Him whisper in every malignant drone past my ear, and laugh at every fruitless swipe.  

I first knew there was such a deity at a young age. From then on, every time I heard or saw His creatures, His voice would get a little louder, a  little more insistent. Eventually, I took precautions. I don’t see too many people these days, but that’s OK. At least I don’t have to listen to that bastard in here. 

Getting in here took cunning, I must tell you. I had to convince a great number of people that I was crazy. It isn’t easy for any sane individual to play the madman. There were times when I thought that even  I might be going crazy, but then I remembered my purpose, and my mind returned to its usual clarity. Like I said, clean, sterile and definitely insect-free. I don’t see anyone in my saferoom, but I don’t hear Him laughing, either

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Fiction

Heart

The heart wants what the heart wants. She pondered on this as she watched her hero, her muse, twisting and cavorting on stage. Her heart knew what her heart wanted, and today it would receive it’s gift. It was glad. 

Later, as she hunched in a pool of congealing blood, the phrase came back to her, and she giggled around a mouthful of chewy flesh. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, the half-chewed organ clutched  tight in her hand, and tracked bloody footprints into her sanctuary. She gazed around, for the millionth time, at her beautiful creation. Pictures, news items, hand-scribbled notes, set-lists, all connected in a vast and tangled web of heart-lines. Just one space left, in a whole room full of desire. She placed the mangled heart into its place, and watched the blood spread across her network. 

It’s what the heart wanted. 

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