Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I by Alfy Dade Page B

not bear to realize
it. Her eyes welled up with tears. Her lips contorted into polygons
of agony. He looked at her. “What? Baby, what’s wrong?”. Flourishes
of anxiety weighed upon each worried tone. She kept her eyes, her
ears, and her heart shut. She could neither bear to hear, nor see,
nor feel. She gently grasped his palm and placed it on her warm,
wet inner-thigh. Now he too knew. As the blood trickled down, they
held each other and cried. So much time, so much love, so much
effort. All they had to show for it now was a pool of blood and
bits on their kitchen floor.
    The couple
tried until the day they died. Day in and out, they worried and
wondered. All the while they cleaned one mess after the other, yet
never those they prayed to have.

27 –
Forgiveness
    Forgive me"
he cried.
    “ No,” she said.
    === ===
===
    "Forgive me"
he cried.
    “ Go," she said.
    === ===
===
    So he did,
quite far and wide. He sought that which would make her forgive if
not forget. He flew, he drove, he sailed, rowed, and sat in various
trains. The whole world over he searched. It was his fault, he had
been her necessary evil. So he would find a needless
fix.
    He yearned
for the animal touch of another, for passion, and for lust. He
searched high and low, he searched wherever he could go. He
searched until his legs were tired, his feet calloused, and his
face a swathe of sunburnt skin. He searched until he was an empty
wrinkled sack. Only when his skin truly resembled rough burlap did
he finally find it: a beautiful fossil, unlike any other. Life
frozen in time, cradled in stone by death's cold, unforgiving
embrace.
    He'd dug so
much that in those 2 short years that he gained 30 times as many,
or at least looked it. The whole 6 later he seemed an altogether
alien being. He named the unknown stone for her, and with it in
hand (or rather, truck) he went to find her one last
time.
    “ H ere. Tis
named for you; forgive me," he said.
    “ Oh!” she cried. “I do forgive you.
Please stay” she sighed.
    “ No,” he said. "All I wanted was
forgiveness. I do not love you now like I did not love you then. I
obtained what I sought, now I take my leave.”
    She was
wordless, she was breathless. He would just disappear once more.
She'd thought him dead, yet the only death was that which he had
brought with him, that death which made her want to bring them back
to life again. There he stood before her, about to leave again. She
was left with relics only, just a skeleton and memories.
    “ Go then,” she begged.
    Go he
did.

28 – Cap'n
Crunch
    He twitches
as if he is possessed. He can barely stop moving for his human is
nearly home. He prepares lovingly for her arrival; she comes and
goes the same time each day. What a strange thing...to live your
life like that...as though forced to abide those ticking black and
white tableaux. So artificial, so bizarrely unnatural. Even so, it
matters little, he loves his human. His human values life; she only
eats the insentient ones. Not perhaps to his own tastes, but even
so she surpassed the vile humans who survived off carcasses of
their friends, mutilated and embalmed in Styrofoam, then sold in
disgusting packages. The blood meant to keep them in life instead
stains white plastic foam. The humans even rob them of their names,
objectifying companions to make them easier to eat. No baby cows
but veal, no small sheep but lambs. No death, but steaks, and
chops, and breasts instead. Slabs of muscle ooze on their plates
daily, but not on hers. She loves our friends.
    He slinks
across the sunlit room in stealthy shadows. His stomach rumbles, he
can not survive on air, but no trap has sprung yet. The sun's warm
rays glow through the glass and glint off his eyes with diamond
fire. Outside the window, he spies a quick black streak. Oh man,
that looked delicious. What had it been? The dark flash disappeared
just as quickly as it had appeared. He cannot fathom what it might
have been, but deems it tasty still. It