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

she'd walked by. He jumped form his seat and
rushed to woo her with a cheesy pickup line. Luckily she didn't
mind the cheesiness, all she had ever wanted to do was help, not
just him either, but everyone. She was kind, and that was all that
mattered to one as accursed as he'd been. He thought her love had
cured his malady. First, he'd stayed quite far from her, in fear of
himself, but when it didn’t happen for a few years, he began to
doubt. Each time the man descended to the city he saw her, catching
glimpses of her reflected off busy window-panes whose lifeless,
posed mannequins mocked him with their hollow immortality. He
became convinced that they were meant to be. That she was his one,
that she was his cure. Those seasons ago he had arranged everything
just so, and waited, almost trembling with the anticipation at the
thought of her arrival. He barely hid his childlike joy at the
thought of surprising her.
    It was
coming, he could feel the nausea.
    She had been
shocked indeed, her eyes grew wide and her lips parted. The twinkle
within the glassy green seas danced joyously, and she smiled with
love and pity in equal measure. Tears welled up in her eyes when
he'd proposed. Excessive conflicting emotions got all entangled in
her heart. She hoped that he would be ok, that they would be ok.
She had watched him kneel down knowing what was to happen, and
hadn't said a word, not until he'd finished his, and even then just
one: No.
    He remembered
how she stared at him, how she smiled, like Jesus to a child. He
wanted her, he needed her, he prayed to be cured, and so, to
convince her he wept too. Dollops of tears he'd forced to gather as
one moistened his cold-blooded face, and he bore his many teeth
like a Caiman's spiky smile. She swayed and felt lightheaded. As
soon as she opened her mouth to say “Yes,”, it began. She suddenly
lacked energy; she could feel it happen. He had told her what he
could, indeed, he had told her it probably would, but she hadn't
given his mad ramblings any thought. With terror in her eyes and
horror in her heart, she'd looked down to her ever paler arms as he
gurgled. Soon she too was as dry as the Mojave, and like the many
floors which he had stained before he would stain that asphalt
street too. And soon, he would run away again, chased and branded
as “witch”, each time his life considered forfeit by the tyranny of
frightened masses.
    He smiled one
last smile before it began. This time it was different, he could
feel it, this time, he would be free, unencumbered by accursed
life, by its horrid pain. Finally, he could be with her.
    He began
vomiting, covering yet another floor in a thin, red, life-granting
glaze. Outside his cabin, a bear began to lose its
balance.

36 – A Lizard In The
Spring
    He chortles as
they descend, drawing raised eyebrows from Hugo. It's finally
happening, they'll soon reach the centre – the hot, molten, core of
earth. Moths had passed and many had toiled to make this all
happen. The journey they took now has been mocked by all, but
they'd persevered, and now they'll soon be there.
    From the third
grade, he had always wished to find what lay there, such a journey
in those days was thought absurd. The pressure and heat were far
too great, and it was no wise idea to tempt fate for a number of
other explorers had died upon that same route. But he heeded not,
and instead he did as his dreams implored, he did as he thought. He
pursued what he would to make his dreams come true. He fought long
through much ridicule and adversity until bold new materials,
invented just for him, awaited his daring use. He did not expect to
find anything beyond hot molten rock, but that itself was quite
sufficient. Just so long as he was first, and so long as his
knowledge could be advanced.
    If they were
right – if he was right – it meant a new era, one of unlimited
geothermal power; one of no hunger. At the very least he will at
least have achieved his dreams, one of the few people