Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
- William Blake
You're absolutely right officer, I was irresponsible and down-right immoral to disobey the order to evacuate. After all, the law exists to protect the interests of all that follow it, breaking it is an act of sedition or even treason.
The pig looks uncomfortable with my oratory, he has another five hundred or so houses to check in town before he can evac himself.
The unknown scares authority more. I remind myself this is a man in a uniform, excited by the ideals of brotherhood and protecting the state. I don't hate him for being a tool of repression of my freedom, but I certainly don't respect him for it.
I'll be on the next bus out, don't worry about it. Except I won't. I don't want him to worry about me. He wouldn't if it wasn't something he was paid to do.
The firetruck is the last thing out, cruising out at dusk, sirens blaring. Giving the town a last fanfare. I sure hope I don't light too many fires while they are gone. I grin, walking across the street in the lengthening shadows to the library to return a book.
The people left, abandoning everything they couldn't carry with them. Odd I thought, that I, the one with nothing here would stay.
The town seemed drier and older the morning after the people left. although their lives had somehow animated the wood and stone.
The next morning the first train arrived. Nobody was around to open the gate to the sheds at the end of the line. I watched from a rooftop that day as train after train crashed into the bollards.
There were no drivers, most were old freight trains, I wondered what the cargo was, making a note to check later that day.
The local store yielded a carbonated soda that promised I could win instantly by buying a bottle. I decided just to steal it instead since the novelty of money and working a cash register had worn off many years before. I chuckled as I looked under the cap. I was a winner! now to send my details somewhere and in six to eight weeks a hat with a logo on it would be mine.
The train station was a mess, derailed trains lying on their sides, some with their engines still running. It smelled pretty bad, I guessed the stench was coming from the trains. I tossed my drink bottle in a bin, wondered if anyone would ever clear it out, shrugged and wandered on, searching for an open carriage. There were biohazard signs on the closed ones and given the smell, I didn't want to find out what was in them that strongly.
I heard a rumbling that sounded like a 24 carriage train approaching at full speed.
I moved away from the tracks. A few minutes later the train came crashing into another bollard and derailed, its engine on its side, wheels still spinning. The contents of its open carriage spilled off. The smell was rancid, but the sight was worse. Hundreds of dead bodies lying in the dust before me. I spotted some humans, the clothing gave them away.
Past a certain point of decomposition all meat looks the same.
Looks like I was wrong, the train only had 23 carriages. Silly me, I giggled at the thought of guessing the number of carriages by listening to the sound a train made and wandered away.
If every train was full of rot, I thought while walking to the nursery, a forest would have all the food it needed. It rains pretty regularly here and never gets too cold. Trees were nice, but thinking about it I couldn't really get inspired by chloroplasts.
With time they'll seed themselves anyway.
I have no place helping life.
Independence of an organism is central to its adaptability and survival.
I wonder what independent organism broke the symbiotic cease fire and killed so many meatlings. The sprinkler system came on, watering the ferns I was watching. I moved out into the sun to dry myself.
I like cacti, they have a certain resolute attitude in the face of diversity, opting out of plenty to find their own niche.
My cactus is growing happily on the roof, well, sitting there. It must be saving its energy for later. But it certainly seems happy. I burnt down the church last night. Nothing against religion, just hated to see it go unused. Pity we don't have a mosque or synagogue here, I don't want to discriminate. Plus it was fun to watch a symbol of childhood repression go up in flames.
The hardware store has paint, this town is going to become pretty.
One building side in, I get tired of the old up and down motion and start throwing paint to speed things up. It gives things a much more chaotic feel.
I like that.
I went back to the nursery. Everything was dead. The water was helping wash away what was left of the ferns. I took another cacti, but I didn't get the feeling it was happy so I dropped it.
A building fell down today. I heard the sound, not sure why it did but i'm glad I wasn't in it. Might sleep outside all the same. The ground is looking more and more nasty. Can't say I would dig sleeping on it.
Asphalt and concrete, full of delicious sugar, if you look on the right day at a fresh laid piece you'll see hundreds of butterflies sitting on it feeding. I wonder if they ever get stuck, kinda like in amber.
The town smells awful this morning, more buildings fell down during the night. I slept through it apparently. Food has lost its appeal to me. This stink is enough to drive someone mad. But who? I giggle, I love me; I really crack me up sometimes.
One more day, I choke down a grain and honey snack with water. One more day without fresh air and i'm out of here. People at least don't smell this way.
I had some awful dreams last night, death, decay, a hideous pulse of hunger. I haven't been eating well recently. I pack some snack food and water into a bag and think about the best way out. The smell makes it hard. It is cloying and surrounding, breathing is difficult. I grab a toothbrush and paste off a shelf and brush my teeth, then throw them in the bag. Minty freshness doesn't seem as pleasant with this stench in contrast.
The road is cracked and some odd black goo is bubbling up through it. I start walking, scraping it off my shoes on the kerb.
Then I think, this isn't right, I can't just walk away. I crack a huge smile and break into a run.
By the time I hit the edge of town I've vomited a few times. Highly enjoyable. A building collapsed behind me, sending out a plume of dust and spurring me on.
The black stuff is everywhere in pools out here and smells like rot. When I have to cross it, it is like walking through a bog. The rot doesn't feel like there is any dirt in it though. It all seems alive. It is weird to stand knee deep in an organism.
I start wading quickly through it and get to solid ground. As I catch my breath I hear a rumble and the solid ground starts to become less so.
I am running wildly now, the ground behind me falling away and being swamped by the rot at a disgusting rate. The only thing going through my head is how much I want to be alive.
I reach the top of a rocky outcrop and look out onto a landscape of decay, the whole world is covered in this goo.
I'm atop an ancient rock, a high point solely because there is nothing up here worth eating.
Until now.
Disobeying what I know about fluid dynamics the rot starts flowing up the rocks.
The rot spreads fast, covering the rocks around me. I feel myself drawn in; the rot is accepting of all things. As I decompose I realize this is what I have always wanted. The buzzing of flies and the ancient smell of decaying cell walls, the taste of black soup made from countless billions of dead organisms feeding on each other.
This was the womb I was never aborted from.
