Fin.

Look see child, from beyond the mountaintop

Cast your eyes into the valley below and tell me what you behold, but do not weep, for these creatures are void of any compassion.
See how they treat each other; with no hint of contrition in their callous eyes they rein hellfire down on those without, languishing the have nots into sullen piles of rotten meat ready for compression.

Oh how the devil dined and fed his fallen angels well throughout this great pestilence.

God had died long ago but the death of light does not deny the existence of darkness, it merely strengthens its resources.

But Father, I don’t see empty eyes everywhere? How can this be?

There was a time when all was not lost, but every event meets its horizon, and long ago, this civilization hit the high water mark and cascaded across the abyss into new unfathomable territory.

How did it happen though?

Close your eyes and look back my child and see the horror that man befell on himself.

The tears ran down the boys face as he watched the history unfold. There were wars and dictators; starvation and dehydration. Slaves unpackaged and sold as happiness. These were things that were part of growth and understanding, but they never ceased. Lessons were never learned. He cried out in agony as time and time again he watched unarmed civilians beaten to death by their so called ‘Police’. A resonating chord struck him in the heart and the anger rose through his body.

I shall end this all. I cannot let this carry on a moment longer. Do I have your permission father?

There are times when anger is to be quashed in lieu of benevolence but they have walked too far from the source. Their frequency is diminishing and they create nothing but pain and sorrow. You must understand your actions and stand by them wholeheartedly, and if you do, I give my permission. Take this lesson and hold it in your heart till your dying day. Promise never to succumb to the evils of man.

I wish they were not lost, but I know it must be done.

And without so much as a blink, humanity ceased to exist in any other form for the rest of time. The universe was peaceful once more. The screams of terror were absent.

Bugs.

There was once an infestation of bugs in our bathroom. No one knew where they came from, or quite what they were.
They could have come from outer space, or the less popular inner space. Either were likely.
We tried squashing them, but they didn’t like that. They found it rather rude, so they multiplied.
Feeding them didn’t work either, bugs clearly do not like peanut butter.
One day I was brushing my teeth when I noticed the bugs talking amongst themselves. They had swarmed into a corner and were all vibrating ferociously, then they marched out across the tiles and began to spell something on the wall in their tiny bug bodies.
I could tell you what they said but it would not make sense to many, if anyone. Myself included.
The greatest trials of life are not those left dripping like mucus from the formative years in a state funded educational facility, nor the experiences gained through close bonded companionship with like minded individuals. No, it is the never ending maze of the human mind that brings men and women to their knee’s, falling at the feet of statues and statements, clawing belief and meaning from a metaphorical apparition to seek some sense of reality to ease the passing. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, but we do make it so easy to do so.

I have seen the bugs again.
A week has passed in a matter of moments, blurred by the disinfectant that I so readily consume, with gusto and furore, spreading imbicilic truths to fellow soaks in the hope of one day finding my own so called “truth”, the path to a brighter future, enlightenment, or maybe just a vague happiness.
In a pointless aim, I blurt out my thoughts on such evenings to make some kind of point to my existence, because a writer has purpose; to document the interminable, to tell the truths as they really are. Just like every other fucker out there that thinks they have something new to say.
Who made us kings of our universe?
-:-
Selfishness is lost on the insect world. The units determination to produce for the greater good is something we posses inside, but fail to utilise, but the question is; for better or for worse?
Have you ever asked an ant what it wants to bee (sic)?
Well if you haven’t, the answer is thus: Nothing.
An ant wants to follow it’s instincts and work with the colony.
Science tells us that there is selfishness within the insect community…but that is irrelevant, science does not exist as much as religion does. The entire world is so abstract that there is not one possible group of facts that could be possibly true or not…the tangible object in your hand is no more real than the fairy sitting on your windowsill watching you.
Believe what you will, lest it befalls harm to others.
I am been getting bed bug bites again, but it’s better than the bugs in my brain.
One morning I plucked up the courage to ask them what is what.
They were watching me as I showered, which I had grown some what accustomed to over the months. They were incredibly inquisitive about my daily rituals in the land they had inherited from the mould men.
The God’s of the Oncewoods could not possibly imagine the banality of modern mans daily rituals and offerings, of which have become so commonplace within our society. The repetition of; Wake, procrastinate about getting up, shuffle, shower, stare emptily into a mirror, shuffle, eat, coffee, stare emptily at a screen filled with other shells of meat staring back at you, shuffle, dress. Work. The days have died a slow and boring death.
-:-
Little Feet tremble, and cling to the vibrations.
“An earthquake?” Says one.
“I think not.” Gurgles another.
They have followed me into the living room and are sat tentatively on the edge of the washing machine.

“We are not so different you and I.” I say, clamouring around looking for my mauve sock, the one that always disappears.
“In fact, I might go as far as to say I am rather enjoying your company. You see, the complexity of our species; humanoids of course, is so great yet so infantile, it rarely makes sense to even us, and with the way I can see you all looking at me, I imagine that you agree. Am I correct?”
The bugs looked at me and nodded.
“Now if you could help me find my sock, I would be most grateful.”
I glanced back to the washing machine to find they had gone. To find my sock, or to attend to business only arthropods understand, I did not know, but I was fairly glad they had left. The world seemed peaceful again.