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Library: Maggots


Author: Puptah
Date:Oct 1 2002

The Raven was black. He was not only black from the outside, but his very
being was black as ashes after a downpour. In his evil mind dwelled an
illusion of grandeur. He dreamed of being the zenith of all gods creations. He
despised the slimy maggots and pitiful rodents living on his island. Besides
few stunted plants, mice, maggots, insects and the raven himself there were no
living beings on the island, which had been formed from eruptions of an
undersea volcano.

The raven always sat on a branch eyeing his kingdom with two yellow eyes
gleaming of ill will. He scorned over the petty lives of his subjects. The
rodents seemed to do nothing but eat, sleep and litter his island with small
smelly piles of dung, in which the maggots and the insects then crawled. Oh,
how he hated those small minded and ignorant little creatures. Just looking at
those fat worms digging eagerly in the warm rodent manure annoyed him beyond
belief. Yet he couldn't bring himself about to punish those plump and
annoyingly well fed maggots because he feared the thought of his beatiful
black feathers getting dirty. So he stared at them. And it drove him nuts.

Day after a day after a day the raven sat on his branch watching, breeding his
hate and anger towards the world and the sickly yellow maggots. During one day
he saw especially plump worm squirming in an extacylike manner and that's when
he had had enough. He gathered all his black thoughts, spread his wings and
soared up in the sky. 

The Raven hit the air furiously with it's mighty black wings trying to get as
faw away from the island as he could. "Those maggots", he thought, "oh, how do
i hate them. I hate the way they make squelching noises digging in that dung.
I hate their color. I hate it when they contract to get deeper into that
steaming pile." 

The Raven thought about the maggots and flew. He didn't slow his flight even
when the night fell over the ocean. He thought about the maggots and flew. The
island had long ago disappeared into the horizon and the raven was getting
tired, yet he flew and mumbled on about maggots. He flew yet another day, not
knowing where he was or why he was there. All he knew was, that he loathed
maggots. And finally when the raven's wings couldn't keep him up in the air he
fell and even when he was falling towards the black ocean surface all he could
think of was those ugly little sea maggots, which would crawl in and out of
his corpse. And he cursed them to hell. 


The raven had been old. He had flown many miles without realizing it had
turned to his right little by little and eventually so much that he almost had
flown a full circle back to the island he had left a few days earlier. His
corpse was washed ashore the next night and it was oozing with fat maggots by
the morning.

The maggots were happy. They would have been happy with or without the ravens
corpse washing ashore.

The rodents went on with their lives as they had done so far. They ate, slept
and littered the island with small piles of dung.