The other night while failing to fall asleep, I was compelled to sit up in bed at two in the morning and write the following story. Inspired by true events.
“For I swear a week there was a fly about my windowsill, the one just above my bed. It was hopelessly trapped. I had at times opened the blinds and it might for a while buzz about the room, always finding its way back to its perch, so near freedom, the outside world—the greenery, the fresh air, the promise of a short life well-lived for any fly. I found it remarkable that a fly should live so long. At one point I attempted to aid it in grand escape.
On a perfectly fine day, sun shining, not too cold, I opened the window for some number of minutes. I watched it wander much like my thoughts did and yet it never made its way out. Two other flies nearly came in together (very loudly) and startled me. Still it couldn’t locate the exit, so close, so vast an exit… When a wasp tried to come in that’s the point where I closed the opening. I could only lead this fly to water so they say.
More days passed and the occasional buzz did persist. And then, so late one night it was early in the morning, I observed between my blinds a small, crushed body. At some point it would seem I had inadvertently brought about the demise of my fly, and yet I don’t remember noticing a lapse in the buzzing. I could not imagine any investigation of the crime scene should produce evidence of the time of death. I was surprised though to notice red at the site. I don’t believe I had been aware that flies contained blood. Mosquitos, yes, though not their own, but flies I had never imagined.
Life went on as usual for me. I hadn’t much considered the continued buzzing until some days later, when, again so late it was morning, I discovered a second body. I switched on the light of my bedside lamp and there it was, belly-up in my path on the floor. Like this was some kind of noir-thriller, and I’m the innocent detective who’s somehow gotten mixed up in something much bigger than I could’ve imagined. Evidently, I had not noticed a lapse in buzzing. Some detective I am…
Before all of this there was another fly. Weeks ago. It was warmer then. When I opened the window to let him out I had accidentally trapped him further down and between the two glass panes. I worried he wouldn’t figure his way back up, but he did. And after a while he flew out the window.
For all this I can say, there will always be another fly.
October 30th, 2am”
Since these events, I have seen the emergence and death of yet another fly.