A newly fleshed cocoon.
The cicadas began their mourning of the day, rubbing their wings with intentful fate. A countryside, my punishment for the suspension of my selfishness. Delinquent, unruly, unmanageable, all these hilarious words flung. How I only smile at their displeasure.
Walking down the old brick, dirt and filthy weeds swirling in the cracks. A slim figure with bug boxes chained to his belts. I snickered and approached him. His milky eyes, blinded by mortal hideousness, the past evil festering. A quiver in the heart, an itch in the brain. He sweetly grinned, a butterfly emerging from the slit of his lips. Bugs and insects of all species licked up his flesh, seeming to almost gnaw their way out from his skin. Cockroaches skittered to safety by his feet, centipedes licked across his face, ladybugs under his white eyes, bees in the flowers nestled in his pocket.
A language only he could speak, one of sound and vibration.
Convulsing curiosity. How I only followed him blindly. Buzzing, strumming, singing his otherworldly song of insect-like sophistication in the empty golden grass I followed him to. Opening the boxes and spreading the winged creatures into the air, he passed them on. He veiled his mournful grief, unspeakable loss. A part of himself that he gave regardless of the humanly selfishness that infected all. Fluttering and streaming into the air in breathtaking motions, the butterflies flew where he could not. Silent infestation, dreadful sorrow breaking his smiling lips.
A beautiful metamorphosis.
Note:
Flash fiction - 250 words
For clarification, there’s 2 characters here:
Blind boy
Character who was suspended in school for “selfishness” (ie. bullying).
The blind boy was bullied which is the cause of his blindness.
Cocoon → metamorphosis = change in the 2nd character. The blind boy is selfless despite his grief (his past) while the 2nd character is selfish because of the grief. Cocoon and metamorphosis refer to the 2nd character and the ongoing change once meeting the blind boy.
They don’t have names.
It seems as though the blind boy has developed a unique relationship with nature and was able to commune with it at a level beyond human understanding. He suffered. He grieved, but still had the heart to share his unique gift with the world.
Beginning of the End
White eyelashes flickering, desperate for light in the storage closet.
Snickering, pained laughs with human misery, prostituted to selfishness and self hatred. An illogical reason for the scrutinization of an insect. Greedily grabbing onto a tiny body, gripping the wings and tearing them with the slow look of sadistic insanity. The ripping excites the immoral yet frightens the silently screaming insect. A hand suffocates a pale spitting mouth. Such hideous enjoyment gained from vile and disgusting actions.
The stripping of the exoskeleton.
Hoarse and wheezy suffering breaths, the rib cage protruding sickeningly, a back arching and bending in an attempt to escape. Feet stabbing into the ground, pushing upward against the mass of mortal pressure. White hair that licked the floor clean of its impurities yet dirtied itself in the filth of humans. Forced to watch the small droplets that invite horrendous stinging pain. Warm sensations, a buzzing in the flailing limbs. Biting, gnawing and seething at the hands enlacing and groping. Staring into their merciless and paradoxically dull inhuman eyes. The hands on the chest compressing the bloody lungs, a throat that scratches dry with muffled pleads of agony. Motionlessly lying on the cold concrete, shackled by the hideousness of humans. Bruised and beaten, sores and hidden cuts- a punished body, the one lacking melanin and selfishness. Sorrow and torment stained impurely. The body that had gone limp and unable to prevent the future.
White eyelashes damp with bleach in the storage closet.
Twitching Larva
A haunting cold sweat, chilled to the remaining bones. I did not awaken. Darkness swirled and swelled in my vision; there came no light. Panic enveloped my dripping and weak body in a shadowed hug. Sneaking out of the sterile bed, elongating and stretching, desperate to feel for sturdy land. Beside the window in the freedom outside, cicadas sang their solemn melody of sharp misery.
The language I heard and deciphered self consciously.
Feeling my way into a corner as pressure built up behind my burning eyes. Curling my toes, the silent lick of many legs. Devouring the flesh of my sore wrists, a tickling sensation numbing the pain. I held the centipede in my palm, listening to its hundreds of legs cracking and moving in patterned motions. A new insect greeted me lovingly, one with dull and boring wings associated with death and the grasshoppers that pounced onto my legs. The spiders strung themselves onto my shoulders and tapped my collarbones as a way to my heart. Cockroaches kissed the tips of my fingers, beetles following the path of my veins. Attracted to my warmth as I was to their misunderstood lives. The gathering of the forgotten and forbidden, my heart twitched with solace.
Overwhelmed by the welcoming and greeting music they voiced in silence.
Throbbing Pupa
A face riddled with bandages covering tanned skin continuously licked by burgundy hair. Delinquency kissed cracked knuckles, harsh dry hands succumbed to cruelty. The absence of change; revolted by the thought of happiness. Throbbing eyes that could no longer bear to secrete tears of weakness. She who drowns her emotions in stinky bottled liquid and leaving the lost to fester in an isolating society. She who abandoned the misled who began to survive off selfishness.
There came no greater pleasure than seeing grim fear splattered on someone else.
A heart that hardened at the thought of kindness, a careless gift impossible to accept. The suspension belittled any satisfaction she who had birthed the sorrowful had. Yelled at and scrutinized by a drunk breath, stiffening yet laughing with no other way to cope.
The countryside painted oppositely of the city the selfish had come from. Golden grass that danced along with the song of the wind, and trees that grew thick with freedom yet oppressed with overspread agitation. Wonder in the ordinary, the plainly veiled secret hidden because of the inefficient blind eye. A sun that glorified the boring simplicity of desolate and empty land. Paradoxically smiling shadows, how they grinned at the selfish.
The insects sang their anxious displease, cicadas rubbing their wings with malicious thoughts.
How Greif Bore a Butterfly
A newly fleshed cocoon.
The cicadas began their mourning of the day, rubbing their wings with intentful fate. A countryside, my punishment for the suspension of my selfishness. Delinquent, unruly, unmanageable, all these hilarious words flung. How I only smile at their displeasure.
Walking down the old brick, dirt and filthy weeds swirling in the cracks. A slim figure with bug boxes chained to his belts. I snickered and approached him. His milky eyes, blinded by mortal hideousness, the past evil festering. A quiver in the heart, an itch in the brain. He sweetly grinned, a butterfly emerging from the slit of his lips. Bugs and insects of all species licked up his flesh, seeming to almost gnaw their way out from his skin. Cockroaches skittered to safety by his feet, centipedes licking across his face, ladybugs under his white eyes, bees in the flowers nestled in his pocket.
A language only he could speak, one of sound and vibration.
Convulsing curiosity. How I only followed him blindly. Buzzing, strumming, singing his otherworldly song of insect-like sophistication in the empty golden grass I followed him to. Opening the boxes and spreading the winged creatures into the air, he passed them on. He veiled his mournful grief, unspeakable loss. A part of himself that he gave regardless of the humanly selfishness that infected all. Fluttering and streaming into the air in breathtaking motions, the butterflies flew where he could not. Silent infestation, dreadful sorrow breaking his smiling lips.
A beautiful metamorphosis.
Note:
Thank you for taking the time to read all of this ;D
I haven’t edited any of these pieces as I just finished writing them since the last 2-3 hours. I’ll revise and edit them when I have the energy, so excuse any grammatical errors or anything along those lines.
The third piece “Throbbing Pupa” switches to the second character, the fourth piece “How Grief Bore a Butterfly” follows through the perspective of the second character, too.
The “blind boy” has a name now: Inago. (means locust)
The burgundy haired character has no name yet, possibly Tonbo (dragonfly).
The inspiration for this is my situation. I’ve expressed how “I feel as though I’m a bug,” hence the overall title “I Am An Insect.” Inago has albinism (white eyelashes, white hair, lack of melanin details in the first piece) which is why he is bullied and blinded with bleach then later hospitalized (a sterile bed, second piece). The burgundy haired character represents my anger and the want to express that (although not physically). They’re neglected, representing how I neglect my emotions and invalidate them. But they also represent hope.
The entirety of these pieces is about selfishness and being able to “speak” a different language to express that. About how Ingao can be selfless and understanding while having suffering and grieved. The burgundy haired character isn’t able to express themselves this way because of neglect.