I killed it. Yet, I still hear that irritating buzz. Another mosquito. “My god, I just want to sleep.” I sit on my bed, defeated. The clock on my phone indicates 4:37 am. The sleep-parasite keeps disappearing from my field of vision as I try to track it. “There you are…” I follow it with my eyes, from the top right corner of my room to the mirror next to my window. I get up, my back cracking, and try to not to lose the mosquito’s trail as I bend down to scratch one of the multiple stings on my right leg. – At this point I might as well just drown my house in insecticide. Fuck, where is it gone now? – Its unmistakable hum revealed the bug’s position soon after. A fury fuelled my body and replaced the tiredness accumulated through all the sleepless and sting-filled nights. I am not taking my eyes off it. Not until it is dead. With one slipper in my left hand and the other still on my foot, I try to slap it mid-air. – That little bastard just won’t die. It’s as if it has a sixth sense, anticipating my every move. I’m gonna kill it though. Even if it takes me all night. I can’t waiiiiit for the moment where I whack it against a wall and scrape off its remains of my slipper. –
The mosquito, trapped in the corner, makes a sharp left and buzzes right next to my ear. The high-pitched noise of its wings is still resonating in my skull. – Oh my fucking god, you’re lucky I don’t have a fucking flamethrower, I would annihilate everything I have just to fucking get you. Fuck, I need to calm down, this is excessive. I mean, all that mosquito does is live. Although its living is bringing me tremendous pain, I could just let it be, maybe. I’ve been killing its breed for the last couple hours. It probably already bit me, so now it only wants to get back to safety. And all I want to do is murder it. And any other thing that causes me pain. Well, not even necessarily pain, I’m just annoyed by its hum. And that’s enough to sentence it to death. Humans are guided by bloodlust. Just like mosquitoes. Well not really, we do it out of fun or spite or boredom, not out of necessity or survival instincts. The insect’s life is doomed as soon as it begins because we find it inconvenient. Its sting is an act of rebellion, its buzz a requiem. Nature is cruel, but we are merciless. Damn, I feel bad for that little thing. – And that little thing found its way out of my bedroom and is now hovering through the corridor.
– Where is it going now? Does it know? I mean it’s looking for something, no? What goes on in the mind of a mosquito? Probably a lot of buzzing. Oh wait, how did I end up in the kitchen? – Indeed, I went down the stairs and here I am, standing next to the stove in the kitchen. – I’m so stupid! It’s obviously looking for some fruits to wash down my blood. Who wouldn’t want some fresh juice after a good meal? Like that one time… I ended up in this shady night store for some apple juice. The air in that shop was sooooo stale and it was still the freshest thing in there somehow. And the amount of mosquitoes, damn! Every minute there was one zooming past my ears. Just like when I went to the fair. Always came back home in a bad mood because the stings were too scratchy. I tried hiding under the blanket but would run out of air. I tried closing all the windows, but it was too hot. An armada of mosquitoes following me. Haunting me. In my home. In my memories. And this predator in my kitchen is just waiting for its turn. – I feel a shiver on my right leg and stop moving.
– What if it carries a disease? There is a six-legged, ticking time-bomb chasing, no, hunting me since childhood. I’m the perfect bait, trapped in its reverse psychology trick of me following it to get to me. I’m part of the smartest species on this planet, and yet I am blindly captivated by the mosquito’s intricate gambit. I feel more followed the more I follow it. At this point, time might just be going backwards, right? How else could this paradox sustain itself? That bug is pushing me into the past. That itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny little being surpasses the laws of space-time and the universe itself. Alright. I’m in front of a transcendental entity, controlling my existence. The mosquito cannot be killed. My life makes no sense without it. Immortal, omnipotent. It is the creator. The way. –
I settled down on a chair after the insect’s buzzing stopped, since it also settled on the table. I feel my eyes getting teary and my jaw hurting. I cannot believe my eyes. There it is. God. The mosquito is God. I stare at it in awe as it floats in its divine dimension. “Ouch!” I feel a sudden acute pain on my right arm and slap the spot where it’s coming from. I lift my hand and there it is. The Mosquito is Dead.