During Her Existential Crisis, Jessica Considered the Impermanency of Maggots

I stared at the embers in the fire. They twisted like orange maggots. Illuminous. He was still talking, but the words swirled around me in a fog.

“So you see…” That didn’t make sense. Maggots wouldn’t last in a fire. And they’d be white.

“You can’t say it’s unexpected. Can you? Not really.”

They would burst, I expect. Or would they shrivel? Little charred caterpillar carcases.

“Aren’t you even going to answer me?”

Shrinking down. Like burnt seaweed or tissue paper and crumbling. Crumbling into ash and black and then gone. Gone.


Dissolving into nothing. Until they disappeared again.

This story won the People’s Prize in the April Monthly Micro Competition.

About the author: Dreena Collins is a writer who now works as the Service Manager for a Mental Health charity, having spent almost twenty years working in education. She has a background in inclusion and educational needs. Dreena has published several short fiction collections, and one novel. She hates wearing shoes.