The Disappointment of Pets
Flash fiction for the daily special — Nov 2nd
It seems my pets are mere parasites, squabbling like carrion over putrid scraps. Is this failure my own?
Perhaps I over coddled them in the early days. Hot breath steaming glass. I watched, intrigued, imagining their likeness to my own. My pets were content beneath my gaze and, like all things new and shiny, I was content with them. I kept their drinking water crisp and pure and the environment suited their whims. I delighted in eyes and hair flashing like the sun, their voices opulent to my ears.
It took time, but the novelty wore off. They were not like me after all, not really. These gnats were smelly and disobedient. They became big in their thoughts and needed master no longer. It galled, and I became demanding and domineering in turns. With words of fire, I took their playthings away. I had spared the rod and now spoil was everywhere.
I admit, only now in the quiet hours, and only to myself what happened next. With brow furrowed, I vowed to purify their small space in my tank. I sent great torrents of water, washing away clutter and chaos. Cruel in my disappointment, I cannot say how many perished in the great purge. When the water dried, the land was still.
