Tags
Fiction, flash fiction, short stories, short story, story, writing
He left the barbecue early because of the flies. He had been afraid of them for years, and his friends had grown accustomed to it. They still invited him to barbecues, garden parties and the like, because it would be rude not to, but they knew he would either decline politely or leave early because of the flies.
He was most likely to attend Victoria’s parties. She had a fly zapper in the conservatory, so he could just about manage to sit in there while everybody else mingled outside. He couldn’t watch them though. If he saw a fly go too close to somebody’s face or hands, he would have a panic attack and leave. If his host wasn’t inside to say goodbye to, he’d just leave a note. She was used to it.
Like all his friends, Victoria had grown used to it as just one of those things, those little things that make people unique. She was scared of balloons, Jack feared horses, Helen screamed at the merest suggestion of a spider, and he had his thing with flies. They had never asked him why.
It was just as well, really. He couldn’t explain it to any of them. He didn’t think of himself as a particularly good liar, so anything he told them would probably raise suspicion.
He certainly couldn’t tell them the truth, that his fear of flies came from his first wife. He couldn’t tell anyone that he had bashed her head in with a spade and left her in the garden shed one summer, until he could dig a grave unnoticed. He couldn’t describe to anyone the horror of returning to the shed to find flies teeming across the unrecognisable remains of her face, drawn by the sticky blood, or how they had flown up around him in a cloud when he moved her.
He couldn’t explain that he was afraid of flies because they would sense the blood that still, even ten years later, invisibly stained his hands. That he was afraid they would swarm around his hands looking for that sticky blood, providing irrevocable proof of his guilt.
And so, with an apologetic, nervous smile, he left the barbecue early, and his friends just nodded to each other and laughed about the harmless flies.
Carol Ann Hoel said:
Be sure your flies will find you out! Ha! Thanks for sharing.
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nimaruichi said:
Hi Kari Fay,
You obviously love writing, and I love reading what you write 🙂 !
-nmi
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Kari Fay said:
Thank you for the kind comments 🙂
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darkwasthenight said:
Nice. Very well written. Straight into his fear which linked to the twist later. Although, since I have a partner who is scared of flies, I have to say that an explanation for the fly phobia would be obligatory. Me, I know enough about them to never leave food or cutlery I’m gonna eat or use lying around where the flies hang out. My mother had a fear of fleas after disturbing some very hungry ones in a an unused room in a London victorian gothic house….
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Kari Fay said:
Thank you for your comment. I guess to some extent it would depend on the people involved. I personally don’t tend to press people on the reasons for their phobias because I know I have no explanation for mine! I think in hindsight, if I were to edit the story, I’d say he was never pressed for a reason.
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