The Bug

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One evening there existed a bug. In the same evening the bug existed no more. Erased from God's Green Earth by the swat of a hand. For the man that ended the bug's life with the swat of his hand took no pleasure after what he had done, but only wished to be less distracted by the grey dot that drunkenly hovered in front of his screen. There was no second thought, but just a reactionary twitch that turned the living into the dead.


Little Bug, I hope you know your small presence has caused a ripple of conscious thoughts in my existence, in this grand ol' universe. Everything has changed, for what greater beings exist to swat me like the bug I am? Will my life end like a light turning off, or more like a candle's flame slowly flickering until the last bit of the wick is reached?


I can't be a being capable of such destruction, for clearly every little detail matters now.

Created: Apr 10, 2014

Tags: bugs, philosophy, story, creative writing, poetry, deep thoughts, prose, non-fiction, existance

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