Diary of a Maggot

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Diary of a Maggot

  By

  Robert T. Jeschonek

  Did you ever wonder what maggots are singing about as we squirm through a swath of rancid meat? As we nibble the steaming feast, growing fatter with each delicious bite?

  It's a secret.

  All I'm allowed to tell you is that it's the same song we've sung since the beginning of maggots. The same beautiful tune that has lilted through countless trash dumps, graves, fields, marshes, and homes throughout the countless eons.

  And we're singing it again tonight as we comb through this bag of rotten refuse. As I and my hundreds of brothers, freshly hatched from Mother's eggs, devour the precious food we need to thrive.

  This is paradise. The air inside the plastic bag is rank and humid. We move in absolute darkness, the only sound our twitching and nibbling.

  And singing.

  Here we are, side by side, working hard for a common purpose. Working to eat and grow and change and become mothers and fathers ourselves. Can there be any more perfect happiness?

  I'm writing my own song about it as I feed, composing it in my mind. A song about the Good Work At Hand and the Dream of Flight. That one thing I long for above all others: to lift off, to soar. Soon, I will have it, we all will. We were born to take flight.

  And eating is the only way to reach that reward. That's why I wriggle my tiny white body over the rough skin of the carcass, nibbling off pungent mouthfuls en route. Working my way up to the face, I make a bull's-eye for the tender, juicy eyeballs. When I squirm under the lid of one eye for a taste, the lid sticks to my body and moves with me--up as I move forward, then down as I back out. If one of his fellow people could see him right now, they'd think the dead man was winking at them, back from the dead.

  Suddenly, my meal is interrupted. Someone whistles a warning from afar. One of the lookouts. Danger! Danger!

  We all freeze at once. We lie still in the sweet rotting meat, listening for a sign, wondering if the alarm is false.

  It isn't. Heavy thuds resound above us, crossing overhead. We hear them descend, coming closer, clomping toward us.

  Suddenly, bright light flares through the thin plastic shell of the bag. Night becomes day in our sticky, sweet paradise.

  Panic flickers through our family like lightning. A united, keening cry rises inside the bag from my brothers and sisters: Mother, help us!

  Even thought we all know Mother isn't coming back. That she's flown away forever.

  The thudding sounds come ever closer. I shiver and whimper a little myself, feeling chills of fear ripple through me.

  And then I change my tune. I gather myself up and prepare for what's coming, whatever that might be. I'm determined not to let anything stand between me and my destiny, my dreamed-of soaring.

  Boom boom boom. The thudding comes closer than ever and stops. I sense movement beyond the bag, and I know instantly what it is.

  The movement of living meat. Something not-dead come to pay us a call.

  The tiniest maggot of the litter, barely half my size, scoots up and crushes her body against mine. She's shaking uncontrollably, her chirping whistle fluttering with terror. I hum a little tune, comforting her as best I can.

  We hear the thudding sounds again. Boom boom boom. Coming closer. BOOM BOOM BOOM. We feel the vibrations as they crash down outside the bag.

  And stop. Stop right there beside us.

  Everyone freezes. The tiniest maggot is a block of stone against me.

  Then, I sense that movement of not-dead meat again...and the bag jolts upward. My brothers and sisters wail as the heavy load shifts.

  I hear thunderous sounds outside--some kind of language?--but I don't understand. "Time to get rid of you, old man."

  The bag lurches up again and swings backward. Thrown from my perch on the skin, tossed away from the tiniest maggot, I roll down through the splintered bones of the carcass and land in a pool of coppery ooze. I get a mouthful and drink it down instantly--salty, metallic, bloody.

  Just as I'm slithering toward the ragged, meaty shore, everything suddenly drops. The bag gives way, and our little world of sweet ferment falls straight down like a rock.

  Everything goes at once--meat, bones, blood, and maggots. We hit a hard surface below with a jarring impact and a splat.

  I black out for an instant. Then, the shrill wailing of my hundreds of brothers and sisters wakes me from the darkness.

  I'm no longer inside the carcass. The fall shook me off, throwing me onto a cold, gray plain.

  Looking up, I get my first glimpse of the Beast that has torn my world apart. The nightmare that rises over me into astronomical heights.

  Though it's the same variety of creature we were just eating in the bag, it looks far more horrifying in a not-dead state, towering over us. I recognize the same body parts I've been devouring on the corpse, only now, on the Beast, they're animated and intimidating. Capable of great destruction.

  His two mammoth legs stretch upward, then merge into a broad trunk. Further up, enormous arms frame a vast barrel chest; the chest bursts out from under a ribbed white shirt that leaves his arms and giant shoulders mostly bare. In the middle of those shoulders, rising up on a veiny stump of a neck, is his huge head. Glittering bloodshot eyes bulge from a mane of bushy red hair, sticking out in all directions from the top of his head to the blunt stub of his chin.

  The Beast looks right at me, and I freeze. His face crinkles, lips curling up to reveal gleaming yellow teeth.

  Then, he snarls out more incomprehensible sounds. "Damn maggots! Can't even leave a body alone in a basement for a few days, can you?"

  I gaze up at this shaggy, towering Beast, this rack of living meat, and I wonder what he'll do next. Is there a chance he might just gather us up with the pile of rotting flesh and put us in another bag to resume our pleasant feeding?

  Not a chance. "Cheap-ass garbage bags!" Howling, he chucks the remains of the shredded bag to the gray plain with the rest of the mess.

  Many of my brothers and sisters head for the fallen bag. Instinctively seeking shelter, dozens of them zip across the gray plain toward the mound of black plastic.

  "Get away!" The great Beast belts out more gibberish as he hauls back a booted foot and gives the bag a kick. The bag sticks to his booted toe, and he shakes it loose, sending it fluttering away.

  Which is when my brothers and sisters make a fatal mistake. With the bag gone, dozens of them race toward the nearest cover.

  But the nearest cover is under the Beast's giant boots.

  The great Beast sees the waves of tiny white creatures converging on his feet and lets loose a roar. "Freakin' maggots!" My brothers and sisters zoom toward him, undeterred. "I never knew you could move so damn fast!"

  Then, it begins. A nightmarish scene I know I'll never forget. The Beast raises one mammoth leg in the air, lifting one boot away from the maggot throng. And then...

  And then, he brings it down again.

  The screams of my brothers and sisters pierce the air as the boot crushes them. As it lands hard atop their soft white bodies and pivots back and forth, grinding them into mush.

  I stare in horror, unable to look away. I want to scream, but the cry catches in my throat.

  And the worst is yet to come.

  Driven by instinct, my surviving brothers and sisters swoop toward the Beast's other boot. They're too close; they lack perspective. They imagine the other boot is somehow different from the first.

  But it isn't.

  The Beast roars. "Die, you sons a' bitches!"

  And then he lifts the second monstrous leg. The second boot slides up in the air. Then plunges.

  And the screaming begins anew. Still more of my beloved family are m
ashed into paste upon the rough, gray plain.

  And still more of us chase after the shelter they sense beneath his other boot.

  I steel myself against the slaughter to come...but then the great Beast staggers backward. "I hate maggots!" My brothers and sisters follow him as he backpedals away.

  The other maggots trail after him until his boots leave the plain, climbing up a kind of staggered hillside. "I'll be back, you bastards!"

  His boots crash up the hillside, thundering into the heights: BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. And then, he's gone. We're alone.

  Safe for now.

  I hear his boots clomping overhead, pounding into the distance. Heavy weights fall far away, and things rattle and clang.

  I turn to what's left of my family. Less than a hundred of us now, strewn across the gray flats in a state of shock. Some still and silent, some weaving between the pale smears of our siblings' crushed bodies, weeping openly.

  Welcome to the war zone.

  I feel wobbly as I wriggle across the devastation. How is this possible? We were so happy...and now this.

  The clatter from above continues, growing louder. It fills me with new purpose. I know the Beast will be back. Somehow, I have to save the rest of my family from his wrath.

  Calling out to the others, I tell them to gather near. I tell them the Beast will return, and we have to work together to survive.

  Slowly, they come around. Shake themselves out of their shellshock and drift toward me.

  Soon, I'm in the middle of a circle. My remaining family, nearly a hundred strong, fans out around me, listening to what I say.

  I tell them we must find good hiding places far from the Beast and hole up until his rampage ends. There's no reason we can't survive this as long as we play it smart.

  The tiniest maggot squirms out of the crowd to face me. Her chirping whistle surges with newfound courage. Shouldn't we try to stop him? she asks. How can we let this savage monster roam free? How many more of our kind will he slaughter in times to come?

  In answer to her question, I sing the first verse of our secret song. The one I can't tell you about. It reminds her of who we are and what we believe. It convinces her to see the sense in hiding instead of fighting the great Beast.

  We all join together for the second verse, our voices rising in perfect harmony. Our spirits soar.

  Then, suddenly, we hear the boots approaching overhead--BOOM BOOM BOOM--and we stop singing. Something crashes at the top of the staggered hillside, slamming open...and the Beast descends.

  We need to move instantly, but the sound of the murderous monster freezes us in place for precious seconds. We gape at the hillside, waiting for the horror, the one who massacred our beloved brothers and sisters, as if we're waiting for a storm or the end of the world.

  Then, he appears. He lumbers down the hillside, weighed down by what he's carrying out in front of him: a huge pot, billowing with steam. He carries it with both hands hidden away inside bulky brown mitts.

  Whatever he's got there, it won't be good news for us maggots. That much, I know.

  Leaping into action, I bark orders to the crowd, snapping them out of their trancelike state. I tell them to run as fast as they can for the farthest, deepest holes they can find. Run and hide and don't come out until I give the word.

  I thump my tail on the cold, gray plain, and the others scatter at the signal. The ring of maggots around me bolts off in all directions, seeking shelter from the not-dead Beast.

  Only the tiniest maggot remains at my side. She says she'll never let me out of her sight again.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM. Just then, the Beast stomps down the final levels of the hillside and onto the gray plain. He is here.

  Death has come for us again.

  "Time to die, maggots!" The Beast laughs, his monstrous voice cutting to the core of me. "Time to drown in boiling water!"

  I don't understand the sounds he makes, but the menace in his voice is clear. I start backing away, and the tiniest maggot moves with me.

  The Beast places one mitt-covered hand under the pot, grips the rim with the other, and slowly tips it. Steaming water pours out in a sparkling stream, spattering on the gray plain at his feet. Running across the rough surface toward my fleeing brothers and sisters.

  They can't move fast enough. They sense the hot liquid rolling toward them, and they redouble their pace, but they can't get away.

  I almost shoot in their direction, as if I could help. Because they're my family, and I can't bear to see and hear what comes next.

  The tide of death rushes over them, cooking them alive. Plumes of steam spiral upward as their innards boil within their bubbling skin. A chorus of screams pierces the air, rising to heights of agony, then descending into choked gurgles and last gasps.

  But the smell is the worst part of it. The smell of boiled meat, strong and sharp, rippling over the gray plain. It makes me sick.

  Because it makes me hungry.

  "Take that!" The Beast roars louder than ever, dumping out more super-heated water. "That'll teach ya' to mess with my kill!"

  The water cascades over more of my brothers and sisters. More screams rip through the air. More maggots die at the hands of the giant horror.

  I've seen enough. Spinning, I flash across the plain with the tiniest maggot by my side, zooming toward a massive white cliff--one of four that surround the gray plain. Trying to block out the anguished wailing of my beloved family as the water sears their bodies, melting their organs.

  Now they will never soar. The thought of it makes me want to weep. Makes me want to charge after the Beast and throw my life away in a futile stab at revenge.

  But I keep running instead. Gliding across the grayness, shooting toward a tiny hole in the base of the cliff.

  I'm racing for my life. Hoping against hope that there's no steaming current flowing up from behind me, about to scorch my white body into a shriveled knuckle of dead gray snot.

  The Beast howls with delight. "Die, you little pricks! Die!" And then he stops. "Damn!"

  The next sound I hear is the metal pot clanging down on the plain. Empty.

  "At least I killed all you sons a' bitches before I ran outta water!" I hear him kick the pot, sending it flying.

  The pot hurtles over us, then crashes against the white cliff up ahead. It bounces off the craggy stone and flashes toward us, spinning in midair.

  It's coming straight for us. Without warning the tiniest maggot beside me, I veer off hard to one side, steering her with me. I wriggle as fast as I can, speeding across the plain, and she keeps up without hesitation.

  I think the pot might still hit us. I feel the wind pushing out ahead of it, sense the metal rolling after us. How could I imagine we might escape in the midst of all this killing?

  But we do. The pot slams down behind us, then bounces off in another direction. We're unscathed.

  We keep racing along our new path. I see a towering wooden post up ahead with a crack at the bottom, and I set my sights on this new refuge.

  "Damn damn damn!" roars the Beast. "I missed a few!"

  His earth-shaking bootfalls boom toward us. We race toward the post, pressing toward our only hope for survival.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM. "Freakin' maggots!" He's almost upon us. "Stinkin' worms!" BOOM BOOM BOOM.

  Just a little further now. Our rippling muscles whisk us toward the precious shelter.

  And then he's right behind us! One boot blasts down from above, catching us in its shadow...

  But when it drops, we're in the crack in the post. Safe.

  "Damnit!" The Beast explodes with rage, kicking the post with terrible force. "That's it!" He kicks it again. "You won't get away from me!"

  One more shuddering kick, and then he storms off across the plain. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Then up the staggered hillside. BOOM BOOM BOOM. And thunders away overhead, into the distance.

  Boom Booom Boom Boom Boom.

  I turn to the tiniest maggot. We're both out of breath, bodies
heaving from the harrowing escape.

  Are we the last survivors? That's what she asks me. Is everyone else dead?

  I think so, but I don't say it.

  He's coming back, isn't he? Her chirping whistle quavers on the verge of hysteria. He's coming back to kill us. What do we do now?

  I think harder than I've ever thought in my life. Dig deeper than I've ever had need to dig. I reach for any idea that might keep us alive.

  I close my eyes and think of soaring. Wonder if I'll ever fulfill that glorious dream and take to the air. If only I could do that now, I would fly away from here and never come back.

  Imagine the Beast's surprise to see me swoop past and disappear into the night sky. Imagine the shock of realizing that one he thought dead had sprung back to life.

  That's it.

  With newfound purpose, I dart from the crack in the post and scoot over the plain. The tiniest maggot protests as she trails after me, squeaking in my wake. She doesn't want to abandon our shelter.

  I don't stop to explain. She'll understand soon enough.

  Singing out as loud as I can, I call for any surviving brothers and sisters. I cry out across the field of devastation, trying to ignore the hundreds of maggot corpses scattered around me.

  At first, I think there are no survivors. I sing, I wail, I whistle...and still, there is nothing.

  Then, finally, an answer. The chirp of a single blessed maggot, trilling over the wasteland. Then another, then another.

  I count ten. Ten left out of hundreds.

  But ten's better than none. Enough, maybe, to do what must be done.

  I call the survivors together and tell them to meet me. We head for the rendezvous from all directions, trailing through the now-tepid water that pools on the plain.

  When we reach the rendezvous point, I tell the others to follow me. Then, I slither up from the plain onto the pile of flesh on which we once fed...the mound of rotting meat that hit the ground when the bag fell apart.

  I lead the others over the rugged fleshscape, pitted by the gnawings of our once-great family. We squirm between knobs of bone and cartilage, climbing ever further toward the goal I have in mind.