Stink Bug – Chapter 2

Once again, the whim to write fiction has struck me. Here is more of the Stink Bug story which started with this post. Where do you think it will go next?

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The bug was just floating there in front of me. It was all I could see. It filled my vision from edge to edge. And it was laughing.

How do bugs even laugh?

I tried to swat at it. My arms felt leaden. My hand passed through the bug as though it was only vapor. It flickered, then became solid again. It still laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded.

The bug fell quiet and dissipated. I was left in dark silence. The silence hurt. It pressed on my ear drums. I tried to cover my ears, but my heavy arms wouldn’t budge. I tried to cry out, but I hadn’t the strength. Only a tiny moan escaped my lips. “Help,” I squeaked.

The bug reappeared. “Do you need something?” it said.

“Help,” I whispered again.

“We all need a bit of that.”

“Sorry—,” I started. I didn’t mean to squish you.

“We don’t like being crushed.”

“Sorry,” I exhaled.

“You can help us,” it said.

“I can’t—.”

“I can let you move.”

“Breathe,” I mumbled.

The bug came close. “You don’t like where you are?”

“It hurts.”

“That place. Where you were. Is it better?”

I didn’t answer. My life was dull. There was a faint glimmer of interest in the back of my mind. But I was paralyzed and afraid. “Can’t move.”

“If you could move.” Suddenly breathing came easier. I rubbed my face with my hands. “Is that better?”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“We need to talk,” said the stink bug.

I looked at it and it stared back. “We need your help.”

“My help?”

“Yes. You can help us.”

“Do what? How?”

“We are prisoner.”

I shut my eyes. A vision of bugs in tiny prison cells danced through my mind.

The bug laughed. “Not like that. We are not like this.”

I looked at it again. “What—. I don’t understand.”

“Will you help us?”

“Do what?”

“Come with us. We will show you,” it said.

“I can’t just leave.”

“You already have.” The bug chuckled.

“Where will we go?”

I saw a light out of the corner of my eye. I looked directly at it. It grew brighter. “We go there,” said the bug.

“What is it?”

“A path.”

I looked at the bug. “I can’t.”

The bug looked sad. Somehow. “Please,” it said. “We are prisoner. You can help us.”

“I’m just a middle-aged, overweight, accountant. How can I possibly—.”

The bug cut me off. “You can. Please. Come.” The stink bug began to crawl toward the light. It waved me to follow. And I did.

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Go on to Chapter 3.

Go back and start at the beginning.