The Fly

He entered his flat knowing life would never be the same again. He poured a glass of Romanée Conti in order to forget about his worries and sat in the wide and cushioned armchair by the burning fire whose heat warmed his face and warmed the rural wine which filled his mouth with a fruity sensation. He tried to read ‘The Economist’ to turn his mind away from the past day but the words seemed to just daze him. As hard as he tried to turn his thoughts away from what he did, his mind just kept on returning as the alcoholic guiltily returns to the bar.

Having poured himself another glass without any thought to the price of the wine, he stared at the fire and reflected. He tried to think of better days, like the day he met Julie or the day he married her, but this just made things worse. Then suddenly he heard a buzz grow from the ether and then fade away. As he stretched out his long lanky legs he was startled by this buzz and perked his head up to look around the room to see what it was. Then he reverted his eyes to the fire and closed his eyes in hope of sleep – as if that was going to happen. Then suddenly that buzz returned gradually and faded again. ‘A fly!’ he thought. He looked up again to try and see where it was but having failed to see it he closed his eyes again and presumed the fly gone. However, it wasn’t gone and the buzz filled his mind. His head was aching and the buzz seemed to be growing in intensity. ‘It must be the wine!’ he thought but he knew it wasn’t. Then suddenly a beeping; where from he had no idea. He looked over to the phone and assumed that that was it, but he didn’t stand up to stop it, nor did he stand up to get rid of the fly, he just lazily let them continue.

His mind was in a whirl, these noises felt like daggers piercing him from inside the head. ’It’s the wine,’ he thought again, defiantly, but he knew it wasn’t. He knew his mind could not rest tonight of all nights. Then suddenly a gust of wind hammered the door open and filled the flat with icy breeze. Yet he sat there, in the arm chair in front of the fire with the expensive wine, staring. He just stared and stared and nothing more. His mind was in a rush but he didn’t care. He just stared.

The fire came to a whimpering death and the room went cold. The beeping continued and the fly kept on buzzing and fading into his torrid head.
“What have I done?” he whispered.
He sat there. Alone

The Fly

barnsy

Joined May 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 21

Artist's Description

The next installment to this story is The News

Artwork Comments

  • jcmontgomery
  • barnsy
  • barnsy
  • beast
  • barnsy
  • MaKayla Songer
  • barnsy
  • DBALehane
  • barnsy
  • watty
  • barnsy
  • Paolo
  • barnsy
  • normajean
  • barnsy
  • Miri
  • barnsy
  • Erik Hoffman
  • barnsy
  • pinkyjain
  • barnsy
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.