Bugged (standard:horror, 2151 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Jul 22 2005	Views/Reads: 3512/2322	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
He loved killing insects, until one day they'd finally had enough.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

always held a heavy, musty odour of decay, the stench of waste. 

He finished his drink and leaned forward to do what he always did when
he saw a cockroach on the coffee table, scuttling along across papers 
and torn open envelopes. He slammed the cup down, crushing it. He 
laughed aloud and looked at the bottom of the cup. It was squashed 
amongst other cockroaches that had died the same way. A few months ago, 
he had bought a fly swat. That was always kept on the coffee table. He 
didn't just use it for flies. Many a crushed carcass had stuck to it, 
most of them now just falling off. Stanley enjoyed using it. He would 
swat all the insects he could see when he had it in his hand. Most 
nights when he was on his way to bed, he would smack every insect he 
saw, so it usually took a while to get to the bedroom. Tonight was no 
exception. He put the mug down, picked up the fly swat, stood up, and 
saw a spider on the back of the sofa. There was no hesitation in 
crushing it. It left a smear, but so had previous spiders, killed the 
same way. Out in the hall, he turned on the light, and a few 
cockroaches and beetles scuttled to find darkness. There were a few 
flies on the walls. They were always difficult to swat, Stanley had 
found, but he enjoyed the challenge. He got two hits out of two 
strikes. He had been a master of this for a while. Two cockroaches 
scurried across the floor. He simply stood on both of them and walked 
up the stairs. Halfway up, he saw a spider on one of the steps. It had 
built a web in a corner. He smacked it, its carcass dropping off the 
weapon. Before he reached the top, he had swatted one beetle and four 
flies. He walked into the bathroom and switched the light on, putting 
the swat next to the sink. In the dusty bath, he saw three house 
spiders, seven beetles, and nine cockroaches, most of them crawling 
around, probably wondering where they were, and how they could get out. 
He also noticed that around the window, some of the frame had rotted 
away, and woodlice crawled around, some of them making the short 
journey to the area behind the sink taps, and along the walls on an 
epic journey to the floor or ceiling. Again, a few cockroaches scuttled 
on the floor, searching for darkness and small crevices. Two moths 
fluttered around the bare light bulb, casting flickering shadows, the 
sound of beating wings against the glass loud in the small confines of 
the bathroom. He soon entered the bedroom and pressed on the light. A 
spider had been on the switch, and was crushed beneath his finger. He 
wiped it on his trousers and accidentally stood on a spider and beetle 
in the two steps it took to reach his bed. Every night he would read a 
novel before settling down for the night. Most of the books he read 
were adventures set in wars. So he sat for a while reading that, the 
sound only punctuated by the buzzing of three flies around the light 
bulb. After a while, he stood up, switched off the light, and climbed 
into bed, beneath his grimy, dirt stained sheets in his clothes, which 
he always did. Sleeping in his clothes kept him warmer. That was his 
excuse, and for a long time, he had stuck to it. The flies had also 
settled wherever they land in the dark, and all was quiet. After a 
while, he began to feel movement near him beneath the sheets. It was 
normal. It happened every night. Insects didn't follow his sleeping 
patterns, so sought darkness and warmth next to him, and crawled along 
him and over him, never truly seeming to settle. He felt what must have 
been a cockroach climb over his bare foot and crawl along his calf, 
under his trouser material. As it neared his knee, it found progress 
increasingly difficult, but still, it pressed on, reaching halfway 
along his thigh, when Stanley, finally irritated by this, slammed his 
fist down onto where it was. Its innards and shell smeared his skin, 
but Stanley settled back down to go to sleep. He didn't settle though, 
as something caught his eye at the window. Something outside was 
glowing white and slowly moving around. What on earth was that? he 
thought, deciding to get up and investigate. He never closed the 
curtain at night, but had trouble seeing through the dirt encrusted 
window, but what he made out was that there were several specks of 
light, rather like a concert crowd waving lighters when the band 
performed a ballad. He had to see what they were, so left his bedroom 
and went downstairs and into the kitchen. Before he reached the back 
door, an audible crunch reached his ears and he automatically knew he 
had stood on a cockroach in his bare feet. It oozed between his toes, 
but he ignored it and carried on to the back door. Unlocking and 
opening it, he walked out and stood before the small jungle which was 
bathed in white beneath the hovering lights. More came from there to 
join the others, and float around like many stars that had somehow came 
much closer, yet had remained the same size. Soon, they all seemed to 
gather together to form a shape. Some floated by him, and Stanley saw 
what they were. They were little glowing insects. Lice, flies, Spiders, 
slugs, ants, woodlice, etc. All the ghosts of the insects Stanley had 
killed slowly gathered into one huge shape. It formed into a giant, 
glowing cockroach, the size of a coach. After a few seconds, it began 
to slowly walk towards him. It reached about two metres before him, 
before the shock of it was too much for Stanley to take, and his heart 
simply stopped, his face went white, and he collapsed dead, into the 
jungle. The image dispersed back into the specks of light, and all 
slowly faded away. 

Stanley didn't know that the large cockroach couldn't have done
anything. It was after all a spirit. It had no substance in the real 
world, so could not have harmed him. Rather like insects in the real 
world. Their defence  against humans being their very appearance. There 
is usually nothing to be afraid of. How can a small, inch long insect 
reduce a fully grown person into a nervous wreck? It is part of their 
natural defence, and the cockroach's very visual presence performed the 
job it had meant to do, cause him shock and give him a seizure. He was 
also unaware that insects had to have souls as well as mammals. They 
had to if they were living, sentient beings, and if humans and animals 
went somewhere after death, then insects had to go somewhere as well. 
So it was with the insects in Stanley's house. They had got their 
revenge for his constant killing, and now the garden and his house, for 
now, had become an insect paradise, and if this was heaven for them, 
maybe their ghosts were already home. 


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