The fly’s greatest thrill was to fly higher than high. Travelling the world and spying all he could spy. Until one fateful day, he came across something strange, a peculiar plant that lay hidden in shade.
The plant looked so tempting, with red hues and pink spots. But could it be trusted? He thought maybe not..
But as he flew closer, the scent drew him in. The rotting, sweet flesh that called out from within. He landed close by to examine the flower, and looked on in awe at it’s alien power. He knew that the plant wasn’t native to earth, as he’d never seen anything quite like it since birth!
He examined the lips that softly rolled down, into the long pitcher bulb that faded bright pink to brown. So without a next thought, he flew up to the edge, and looked down at the stinking pool, coloured blood red.
His head soon felt dizzy, and he could taste his own greed, and to drink the sweet nectar was his only need. He flew down to the base and hovered slightly above, and extended his straw mouth to fill it with love. But as soon as he started to drink with his straw, he realised that he couldn’t drink anymore. His straw had got stuck, stuck fast in the ooze, as did his feet and his tiny fly shoes.
The goo pulled him down as he sank to the bottom, and he knew that he too, would soon end up quite rotten. He eventually stopped struggling to break himself free, and looked up at the petals, his last thing to see. His vision was skewed, and thoughts ran through his head, of the great life he’d had and how soon he’d be dead. He knew that he never again would fly high, so he breathed out a sigh, and slowly let himself die.
Fin.