The fly

A dozen kids, some running, some sleeping in bags. They are having a school sleepover. Some people are reading, and others playing card games. There is laughter. I think. I am a fly. The children seem happy. Someone is crying. I leave the perch of the wooden Mauri statue to go to the child. Tears are very tasty and good. I am a fly. I do not think. No need to think. The kid is making a noise at me.

There is a fly. “Hello Mr. fly.,” I whisper. The fly travels to my tears on the ground and begins to eat the feast before it. “At least something benefits from my life., I comment, the fly ignores me, as flies are wont to do. Mr Fly is hungry, like me. The people look tasty, their flesh looks juicy. Mr Fly is the nicest one here. I shall clear the ruckus.

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“What the hell!?,” I scream, as the kid in the corner smiles. It would be fine if the smile stopped where it should have. If the smile didn’t spread like a ring around his face, which promptly flopped off like an unneeded flesh mask. It hit the floor with a meaty squelch. There are so many teeth there.

When did the room turn red?

Why can’t I move?

“Hush, child.” Comes a raspy voice from right behind me.

The corner kid has left my vision.

I am no child…

I scream a silent scream of pain as the teeth sink into every part of me.

I am a fly. I do not care that the child became a thing that the Demogorgon would fear. These tears are delicious.

The blaring of sirens can be heard. When did I start being able to hear rather than feel noise? Oh well. The Mauri Hall is covered in blood and organs. Organs are delicious. Blood is delicious. I am hungry again. The food needs to be quiet. These police are rather chewy.

I

Am

A

Fly…

Or at least I was.

Flies do not have teeth. They do not rip metal apart to get to the juicy blood of people.