Crumbling Asphalt: Dead Flies

Saturday, June 6, 2020

Dead Flies

I've been posting these little flash fiction vignettes for a while now and I've had a lot of fun but I've recently blundered into a larger project. What began with a short throwaway sentence has bloated to thirty pages and over 10,000 words. The fiction has ceased to be flash. The story, reflecting these troubled times (as it should) has consumed me for days. I don't know how it'll end (if it does) but I'm compelled to see it through. But I also want to keep posting here so here's an old story about LSD and shitting maggots.

1969

Flowerbud sat in the corner, crying over the

graves of her dead flies.

      "How much acid did you give her?" said Dan.

      "Just one," Paul said. "I don't know what's

wrong with her."

   Flowerbud picked up one of the flies,

weeping.

She gazed at its tiny frozen legs, its fragile,

rice-paper wings.

      She began to wail a low mournful wail.

      Paul was searching the overflowing ashtray

for a left-behind roach.

      "She's gonna drive me nuts if she keeps that

up," said Dan.

      Flowerbud tried to breathe life back into

the fly, gently blowing on it. Its legs vibrated

and for a second she thought it was coming

back, but no, it was only her breath that stirred

it.

She placed the fly in a line with the four

others, sobbing.

"Shut the hell up!" Dan yelled. "For Christ's

sake they're DEAD FLIES! Get a grip on

yourself!"

Flowerbud picked up another fly. She

turned it over, shifting it from one hand to the

other, crying.

Paul gave up the roach hunt and sat down

on the floor. "Leave her alone. She's into a

heavy trip."

"Shit!" Dan stormed over to her. He

stomped on the flies, mashing them to tiny,

black smears.

Flowerbud began to scream, shrieking like

a woman in flames.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Dan yelled. He

tried to snatch the last fly from her. She

cupped her hands together, protecting its

delicate insect corpse and said, "Leave me

alone!"
     "Gimme that fucking thing!" Dan said,
trying to pry her hands apart. "Open your
hands!"
     "Noooooo!" she screamed.
     "Open! Your! Hands!"
     Flowerbud forced her voice low and calm and said, "Okay, okay. I will. Get off me first."
Dan backed off.
     Flowerbud opened her hands, popped the fly into her mouth and swallowed.
     Dan looked down at her, disgusted. "Jesus.
You're a crazy little bitch."
     Flowerbud smiled at him. She could feel the
fly coming back to life, tickling the soft walls of
her belly.
     She would shit maggots in a day or two.