A Writer, a World and a Fly
Dressed in my crisp white cotton dress -the one I've just recently ironed- I opened the window panes to let the outer world blend in with mine. The sun let its generous and bright light come into my room, illuminating my whole existence. Today I'm not planning to leave the boundaries of my solitude -like if I needed to- for I'm not alone at all. As the heavy draped curtains roll the whole world is mine. Or I rather say, the worlds. There's more than one dimension of life or death to wonder around. A whole new space to be discovered right there, by the edge of these window panes.
The birds perched on the tree branches sing their tunes of hope and love... Oh love! A word to be defined by others experience. Not by mine. Do I know it? Maybe it's part of that unknown dimension I would not venture to explore. And never this dimension, this other world needs to extend beyond the limits of my writing pad.
In the garden, the roses welcomed the laborious bees and the joyful butterflies. The aromas carried by the wind inspired me. The playful muses hovered above my head, sticking some flowers into my neat auburn hair bun. But this morning, they brought some mortuary chants along. I smelled the moistened soil from the nearby graveyard. There, the flies nested on the recently buried corpse and the dark and loose dirt is still wet with the tears of those who mourned the loss.
Why do they cry? -I thought. - Isn't death the most normal and expected event in life?
Maybe that unfortunate felt fortunate to die after all. To pass away was simply to cross some bridge to some other place, a lot more better than here. I thought of that last moment, when he expired -who knows- it could be the most wonderful moment in his life. Maybe, one of those flies, was in his room making him capable of avoiding all the nonchalant murmur about his disgrace. Maybe the black hideous insect buzzed the last sound he heard and deafened all the solemn hypocrisy of his last moment witnessing.
I opened the writing desk's drawer and took out my pen and paper.
...'I heard a Fly buzz -when I died...'
***Inspired by Emily Dickinson's Poem I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died
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I've been Challenged Once, Given Coffee Twice
Short StoryA collection of random pieces, mainly poetry and short stories, created during participating in different contests in Wattpad.
