Recently the Louse has dined with her own relative – dead, of course, - which she has found in a pool of blood, already warmed up by the scorching sun. Her comrade-in-arms by the absence of reason has been probably dying in agony, - some of his legs have been dead-burnt by a star and their ashes have already been swept by a wind, and some green viscous poisonous substance of inconceivable for the Louse nature has been flowing from his stomach. That’s why the Louse has disdained a substance – for only goodness knows, what lurks there, inside them, Louses, right ? – but semi blind eyes and some poor excuses of ears have appeared to be rather appetizing, as well as the remnants of brain, still not totally decayed. The Louse, probably, would not even touch the remains of her colleague, if not for that painful hunger, which has been torturing her during last days of a journey There. The Louse had not a slightest idea of why this unstoppable blood lust has suddenly arisen in her, but it has been growing and strengthening with each passing day. Truly hard is the burden of the chosen ones, trying to reach the true paradise, indeed.
It seemed, that very little efforts were required for now. Certainly, the Louse couldn’t view all the horizon of her path – only a small piece of it, still visible for her eternally bent head and weak-sighted eyes – but, nevertheless, it appeared to her that the paradise is almost there, just few more steps and then, finally …
From time to time the Louse dreamt of wings. Of those true wings, possessed by flying heavenly giants, whose shades she sometimes saw on the ground. Plant louses called those ones as Angels – Messengers of Heavens. Indeed, they had the possibility to behold their shades, their pity reflection only – but even this sight sometimes bewitched their poor excuses of souls … The Louse did never gazed into the Heavens – was simply incapable to do so soul-genetically, so to speak. Initially her relatives were terrified of these heavenly ambassadors, believing that they feed on them, Plant Louses, and can devour them, - but, as multi-thousand-year practice has shown, plant louses did not interest them, - were too tiny, probably… The Louse thirsted to fly – just simply stand up and soar to heavenly heights, to see all her way, to say so, from bird’s flight perspective. Once upon a time the Louse overheard with the edge of her semi-bitten off ear, that their ancient ancestors have had some semblance of tiny wings – and they even could fly up low from time to time, - as though in semi-jumps – but after that something has changed in their organisms, was broken – and since that times only rudiments of those former wings were left. And thus entire race of plant louses have forgotten how’s that – to fly …
The Louse masterfully continued the movement, methodically rolling her legs. She was, to say the least, sort of a champion – one of the best ones. Almost ninety percent of her relatives have died out, competing among themselves of who can crawl There before all others and make the first mark on this new land – but this very Louse confidently continued her journey. Some louses died from thirst, being unable to drink some turbid black slime, shining with all colors of a rainbow under the sun, which the Louse has encountered in the form of some small puddles, no doubt left by the Maker himself. The brain of others simply fused under the fiery sun. Some went completely blind, and started spinning round and round, plaintively cheeping in a vain hope to earn a small bit of sympathy from competing brothers. Someone broke several own legs and was devoured by his starved colleagues. Some became deaf and ceased to hear inviting shouts of their leaders in their common journey There, and, thus, hopelessly lagged behind. And some gave up on everything by wing, laid down on a burnt grass, closed his eyes and stiffened. To cut a long story short, were few worthy ones remained. And that Louse was one of those lucky.
The Louse has just finished eating newly found corpse of her comrade-in-luck, and was going to continue advancing as all of a sudden something has sharply and desperately changed in all her surroundings. Unknown huge and incomprehensible shadow covered the earth ground in all possible vicinity, something great and unstoppably has suddenly begun moving towards the Louse – and towards the entire race of plant louses, moving in ranks … something greatly dreadful for them, plant louses.
- Oh my, did He really exists ?! – the Louse has had a few moment of time left to think. – Oh, forgive us for our Lousy way of life ! – she urged to peep, but there was no more time left.
Someone has smashed the Louse and all her colleagues in a single step, thus finally and inevitably solving a question with a fate of all these … under-humans.
13.12.2010
Real trifle
He was destined for great deeds. But his life consisted of trifles …
Your life is just a real trifle, right? But whether it’s your fault? Don’t worry, certainly, no. You were already born as such, brought up by your parents as such, educated and forged by a society as such, and you find it fun to remain as such yourself. You bear no responsibility for anything in your life, for responsibility is such a real trifle! You have no idea, actually, why it’s, your life, which has developed as so, and in no way differently. Probably, such was the will of casual circumstances unknown to you, and will of yours is such a trifle in comparison with ones of them. And who are you to become the master of own fate, already written in advance by someone?
From the very birth you have felt yourself born for great causes. It’s all the rest - pity humans! - have been doomed by their destinies to bear their cross of petty affairs, dreams and ambitions year after a year, while you have been made for something great, something grandiose, unforgettable, unrepeatable, almost eternal … something which is not a trifle. How strange is that that life hasn’t given you even a single chance to show others this greatness of yours - but appeared to be some sort of a pitiful beggar, constantly asking for a handout directly before your very eyes … How petty it’s from her part!
From time to time you managed to do that. Sometimes you felt with your very bones that you have finally made something important, kind, light, necessary - have helped somebody and made this world a bit kinder and warmer. But on the other hand, all these deeds of yours - they are such a true trifle compared to what you could potentially achieve. But - what a strange thing! - your life has developed exclusively on trifles. Or whether it was you demanding everything at once?
From time to time you came off second-best. Deceived and was deceived, beat and was bitten by stones, loved and hated simultaneously. Indeed, you felt how petty and insignificant are lots of your true motives, your promptings and aspirations … but whether had you no right for them? Besides, you still always have the time to rectify own errors … a trifle, surely, but such a pleasant one.
How petty others concerned you from time to time! And why, really, couldn’t they be more magnanimous, loving and understanding in relation to you? Why did they performed ridiculous things, spoke nonsenses, and tried to deduce you from your ideal self-image periodically? Whether did you grant them the right to behave as such with you? However, life already has had the time to make a strikeback to some based on their affairs … a trifle, truly, yet such a pleasant one.