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Thursday, April 13, 2017

Untitled story with a moral

I heard what sounded like a bird near the little room housing my apartment's heater. I thought there was a bird in my vents at first. This was followed by an eyeless thing with a wrong-shaped head touching my foot and disappearing. I knew it was neither mouse, nor mole.
I experience visual snow, and one side effect of that is I basically see all my floaters. As I have aged, it is now quite normal to feel like I have shadows swimming around me at all times. That shiny darkness that disappeared silently after touching my foot begged to simply be forgotten, ignored like a temporary visual artifact.
That piercing chirp, though. That contact against my foot. As much as I wanted to just disbelieve it, I could not.
In my mind, this was just the herald: the one informing me that my doom was fast approaching. Nothing I could do would prevent a long stream of deformed and peculiar creatures from visiting me, confronting me.
Had I wronged them? Had I offended some hoary god that dwelt in shadows? How soon would I be made a sacrifice?
I tried to keep my composure as I relayed my concern to the apartment management. I knew nothing could stop them, but still, I needed to go through the motions. An exterminator would come.
Inside, I knew the exterminator must come so that the dark forces could display their might and be victorious. The truth of the inescapable doom wouldn't be felt in my bones until I had at least gone through the motion to escape it. Given time, I would know this to be true.
The exterminator set some glue traps and put some steel wool in the opening the voles had been using. The problem did not persist.
The moral of the story is that it is easy for some of us to freak out about anything. For some of us, it is best to acknowledge the feeling, while ignoring the perceived source. The perceived source is usually wrong.

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