On November 2, 2015, I wrote this fast fiction entry for a contest sponsored by Janet Reid, agent extraordinaire and Queen of the Known Universe. Ever since I can remember, starting with my earliest memories of childhood, the coming of plague has been on my mind.
They have happened always. I remember a teacher telling me that nature was a big, bad bitch and took care of culling the human population when it got out of hand by three measures: war, famine, and plague. There was nothing we could do about it but try and survive.
My flash fiction entry – Nov 2, 2015The morning news is plague in Middle East.
“Take out the garbage,” I tell my son.
“Did you do your lessons?”
Exit is backed up. We’re late.
By lunch plague creeps into Europe.
“Want to give blood for plague victims?” I ask.
“Sure, dad. Whatever you want.”
My son smiles at needle and nurse.
He shares his snack.
Night falls. Plague is everywhere.
“His blood is the cure,” the doctor claims.
“We need all of it.”
My son or the world? Oblivious, the world rejoices.
All that remains is a cross marking my son’s sacrifice.
We all die. We would all rather it not be today. In the end, that is not something any of us get much of a say in. Mortality, at least embedded in this particular flesh, is an absolute.
If a savior arises, we will have no idea. It’s not like in books and fairy tales. Humanity is not a wise creature in the collective. We murder our saviors. And before that, we hate on them. A lot. While praising those who shackle us.
Anyhow, I knew the plague was coming.
And so did you.
And now it is time for another nap.
If I die before I wake, somebody please take care of my dog.