flies

Jake Kelly was a troubled boy of 11 years old. He was fairly short, with brown hair that he always liked to keep in a buzz-cut. His dad had abused him and his mother until she finally left him with Jake. For months Jake did little except sit alone and pout, until one day a fly, innocently enough, landed on his leg. Jakes reflexes where never very quick, but they where quick enough this time. He caught the fly in his hands, and for a while he just held it in his fingers, watching it struggle and smiling for the first time in months. He had the fly by one wing, and he grabbed the other and started to pull his hands apart, the flies wing came off with an almost un-audible rip. The fly started to struggle more, and Jake dropped it, without it's wing it could do nothing but fall to the ground, landing with a soft tap. The fly just crawled around, occasionally trying to fly. Jake watched this, hypnotized, for hours.

Eventually, the fly died and Jake had to look for another one, he found it quite quickly, but it took slightly longer to catch than the first one, he kept missing and having to find it again, watching it whiz around the room until it landed. Jake found this time that he was most amused during the first five minutes, when the fly was still trying to take off. This time he stepped on the fly within the first hour, getting slightly bored of it. He spent the next half hour looking for flies, but to no avail. He decided to go to bed, but he opened the window just enough for a certain small insect to buzz through, taking out the screen and hiding it in his closet.

The next morning, Saturday, he awoke when a fly landed just below his nose, still half asleep, he attempted to swat it away. In moments he realized what had happened and was awake with a large smile on his face. He looked around his small room and saw there where quite a few flies. The next fly he caught on only his second try, ripping it's wing off and watching it squirm before he crushed it and hunted for another one. He did this all morning until his mom called him for breakfast, who was quite pleased to see her boy happy again. After his plate was clear he decided to take it back with him, a few small scraps of food left on it, putting it down on the bed as he sat right beside it, cross legged and just watching. Almost instantly flies started to seek out the food, landed onto the plate, completely unaware of the death that awaited them.

He had endless fun with the flies straight until lunch came, he took the plate back and came back with a fresher one. Eventually he came slightly bored with the flies, and started tearing a leg or two off as well. This proved to be more amusing, as some of the flies would walk in small circles.

This amused him for months, until one day he came across a sticky fly trap, smirking he set it up in his room, opened his window and went to sleep. The next morning he awoke and was pleased to see there where quite a few flies on the trap, and most of them still alive. He took a lighter he had stolen from his mom from between his mattresses and took the fly-trap down, holding the string and lighting the bottom on fire. Whatever glue the trap was made of burned slow, but constantly, he smiled as he watched the flies burn slowly one by one, listening to the hiss as they caught fire. He tried this method a few more times, but still preferred to be able to watch them squirm and try to escape.

Next he found a small metal bucket, the bottom of which he lined with paper. He caught a fly, which he almost always succeeded in doing on his first attempt, and tore both the wings off. He dropped the fly into the bucket, watching it try to take off briefly before striking a match (a box of which he had found at school) and dropped it into the bucket. The paper at the bottom almost didn't catch and he had already taken out another match, but it did burn almost as the match had finished. The fire spread slowly, the fly retreating from it, trying to climb the bucket but sliding back down the fairly slick surface. It continued to attempt to escape even as it caught fire, up until the point it's brains charred.

He found the bucket method was his favorite, and soon started putting more than one fly in, laughing as they tried to climb ontop of each other before they burned in the horrible death he had created for them.

Eventually, his mother smelled the smoke, and asked Jake about it the next day, Jake told her that when he walked home from school, he had stopped briefly to watch a fire someone had lit with leaves on their front lawn until it burned out. His mother, never to have known Jake to be a liar, believed him, and never had to inquire again, because Jake only used fire after that when his mom wasn't around, still content with ripping off the flies wings and legs.

A year after Jake found his joy with torturing flies, his mother had a stroke and died. Jake had to move out of his home and into the one of an aunt he had never heard of before. He moved in and was showed around, including the attic which he was told to stay well away from. Jake was depressed for a while, but quickly recovered when he saw the marvel of the new house. Shortly after moving in and sitting in his room moping, a fly, innocently enough, landed on his leg. This fly was about four times the size of the previous ones, about the size of the middle section of your pinky finger. Jake looked at his leg and smiled wide, he had never seen such a large fly before and caught it quickly. He ripped it's wings and half of it's legs (Which he was quite fond of doing) and watched it squirm. That night when he went to bed, after not being able to find another single fly, left his window open in hopes that there would be more.

The next day he was quite pleased to find his room practically swarming with flies, most of them twice as big as the one he had found the previous night. He thoroughly enjoyed himself that day, not even being disturbed by meals because his aunt had gone out with friends.

Soon enough he came across a small bucket, an old notebook and a box of matches. He was much more amused with watching the larger flies burn, as he thought he could almost see the look of terror in their many eyes as they where reduced to ash.

There was one important night to note where he was up later than usual with a bad headache. He opened his eyes to see flies on the ceiling. He sat up and turned on the light. The flies where actually crawling out from in between a gap in the board in his ceiling. He smiled and got up, picking a flashlight from his closet, he knew the attic was right above his room, and it must be absolutely filled with flies. He left his room in his pajamas and went into the hall, having to jump to reach the pull string. He didn't worry about being loud because his aunt was gone still, as she was most of the time. He didn't think to realize that it was strange that she was never around, yet she didn't have a car. He grabbed the string and pulled, a ladder unfolding itself and resting against the ground. Jake could hear a faint buzzing coming from the attic. Smiling wider than he ever remembered, he started to climb, holding the flashlight with one hand. When he was at the top he pulled the stairs up, darkness rushing up with it. He clicked the flashlight on and smiled again. The light of the flashlight twinkled across millions of tiny little eyes, the wall he was looking at almost black with them.

He looked around the attic briefly and saw that the walls in sight where all teaming with the insects. The attic was much larger than he had imaged. Only two walls were in sight from where he stood, which was close to a corner. He started to walk forwards away from the corner until he came across the third wall, walking across it, occasionally bringing his hand down on it to crush any flies that moved too slowly. He came across the forth wall fairly quickly, and was surprised to see not a single fly on it. He walked along this wall until he came across a small hole, he saw flies almost endlessly flying out of it. He wondered what could be on the other side of the wall, and why a hole so perfectly made just happened to be there. He walked beside the wall slightly slower until he came across a doorknob jutting out of it. He put his ear to the wall and heard a loud buzzing, the door itself seeming to pulsate with it. He felt for the pocket of his pajamas, smiling as he felt the box of matches. He gripped the knob and tried it. He didn't stop to think about why a door knob in such an old attic would turn so easily, as if regularly used.

As he past through the door, he tripped over a small, straight rise, the flashlight falling out of his hand and turning out as it struck the ground. He crawled around for it until he came across it's familiar shape. The buzzing was suddenly quiet now, and he stopped for a second before standing up slowly and turning the flashlight on.

The light glimmered off of what seemed to be thousands of white skeletons piled against the wall. In the center of the room there was a figure standing well above him. It looked almost human, except the skin was black, large translucent wings sprouting through it's back. Instead of two human eyes it had two giant eyes like a fly would, with hundreds of glittering, watching eyes inside each. Where it's mouth should have been was the suction-cup spout like mouth of a fly. Instead of two arms, it had four appendages sprouting from its side and two from the base of it's humanoid body. Jake gasped in terror, his muscles locking, paralyzed with fear.

The creature started to move towards him, sort of staggering on it's two legs. Even as Jake watched, black hairs started to sprout on it's body, it's head changing to look more like a fly's as it walked towards him. He was unable to move even as two of it's arm-like appendages grabbed his own and lifted him off the ground. The buzzing returned louder than before instantly, causing him to close his eyes. He suddenly felt an excruciating pain in his left shoulder, felt the trickle of fresh blood down his side, and even over the buzzing he heard the horrible ripping noise. He thought in his last conscious second, was that the buzzing sounded almost like a voice saying "I told you..."

Leon Black