COULD BE
by
Charles T. McGrath
The marvels of spring resonating throughout, he sat in the
porch swing inhaling the fragrant scent of maturing lilacs in between drags
off of a cigarette, “Ah,” he surrendered, “life is good.”
After a moment, eyes closed, he heard the unmistaken drone
sound of a mosquito. And then silence. Detecting the insect foraging
through his bare forearm, the hunt began, and when all movement stopped he
instinctively swatted the insect smashing the critter into a hairy grave.
Yes, life is good.
Fifty-two years later he died. Mysteriously he came before
the center of a vast empire, where seated upon a throne, ruled a gigantic
mosquito an omnipotent God; who damned the miscreant to eternity in an ocean
of fragrant lilacs inhabited by endless flights of thirsty mosquitoes.
END