the fly

The fly had accidentally dozed off. His artwork seemed to glow in the darkness but the fly only watched the gold tin. 

One hour remaining. Could he delay the growing presence of the shadow behind the tin? Could he finish his masterpiece in time so that the genie would grant him a longer life on Earth? 

The still life cat twitched but the fly continued to prick the piece of paper with ink. He felt like he was pricking away his own life and yet, he was almost done. 

But not quite. 

The genie erupted from the canister and drew the fly into the depths of his home. He was going to the world under the table now. 

And as he was pulled from his artwork and ink, all the fly could think about was, "This is karma - bad karma. This is what i got for pestering vivigloo in her bedroom for a week."

And with that, he died, much to the happiness of vivigloo.  

"quisquis es (amissos hinc iam obliviscere Graios) noster eris"