Day 64 – Mirage – Short Story

Teddy Salvador crashes into the sand, exhausted, his lips dry and his skin burnt. He looks up desperately towards the small oasis and forces himself to his feet and stumbles forward, frantically, until he falls to the ground again, this time, into the muddy, wet ground of the oasis. For a few moments he lies there until he suddenly feels a sharp slapping against his face and then a voice.

“Get off her you vermin, get off her!” the voice yells.

Teddy’s eyes shoot open and he slowly raises his head, looking, searching around the oasis for the owner of the voice, but sees no other person in sight, and lies his head back down, into the wet mud, staring straight into the eyes of a large, pale green frog, who stares at him intensely.

“I said, get off her you vile fiend!” The frog says, Teddy lies there not knowing what to do, how to react, and really, no energy to do anything, he opens his sore, cracked, blistered mouth and tries to say something, but nothing comes out, he swallows a mouthful of air and tries again.

“Are you talking to me?” Teddy says weakly.

“No, I’m talking to the other guy who stumbled onto my land, destroyed my home and killed my wife!”

“W-W-What? Killed your w-w-wife?”

“Yes, my wife, you bumbling buffoon, so get off her, for all that is holy, get off her NOW!” The frog yells as it attacks Teddy again with several vicious slaps of its tongue. He back hands the frog away with the little energy he has and gets to his knees, looking down at the frog that lies lifeless underneath him, its stomach split open and its eyes hanging out of its head. The other frog leaps to its side and cradles it in its arms.

“I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve never brought you out here, I should’ve  just been happy with you instead of this crazy dream I had,” the frog says.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see her, I never meant….”

“Your kind never means to do anything, so why don’t you get the hell off my land and leave me to bury my wife in peace you bastard!”

“I-I-I just want some water, and then I’ll leave, I’m so sorry, please.”

“You kill my wife, destroy my home and now want water? Leave before you die here child,” the frog says.

“I-I can’t, I’ve been walking for days without water? I need water, I-I can’t leave without some, I’ll die if I don’t.”

The frog lays his wife’s body on the ground and turns to Teddy, “You’ll die if you…” But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Teddy stomps him into the ground and twists his foot into the wet soil, as he lifts his foot the frog’s twitching, twisted remains stick to the sole of his boot, so he wipes it off on the grass with a frustrated, exhausted sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly as he knells in front of the small pool of water and grabs a handful and splashes it over his face, the coolness of the water is refreshing at first and then there is the pain, horrible, stabbing, ripping pain across his face and hands. His hands shake nervously as he raises them to his face and he sees hundreds of small tadpole like creatures ripping, biting and clawing at him and as he tries to scream, thousands more erupt like a water fountain from the pond, and towards him.

 

END

 

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