Spiral of Flies
Asher took a long, hard look at the pair of stilts resting against the wall of his living room, a hypnotic Deftones song echoing through his wavering consciousness: “I watched you change, into a fly . . . .” In a sudden rage he threw his beer bottle at the radio, took up a nearby axe, and chopped the stilts into a thousand pieces. He awoke on the couch a few hours later, disoriented and hung over. All was quiet but for the crackling radiator and the hum of the refrigerator. If it hadn’t been for a hint of sunrise pressed against the east window, and a faint glow from beneath the bathroom door, he’d have been in complete darkness. Mumbling to himself about having smoked some bad shit, Asher looked up and noticed that the walls of his apartment were now exceedingly high and made of amber. Flies zipped back and forth between them, bumping into one another and spiraling down in aerial combat. A tall, looming figure then appeared beside the TV on a pair of stilts, its body black save fo