Drop #59: Mosquito

Eleven-year-old Andy can’t sleep. And here’s the mosquito again, looking for blood: the obvious culprit. It disappears into the room’s broad expanse, then returns, buzzing intimately around his ear. If only he could kill it, things might be OK. But you can’t kill what you can’t get a hold of.

Andy is unnerved. He calls his parents: two lovely, caring adults, and they rush in with orange, open hearts. ‘Don’t worry, Andy. It will be alright. Don’t let a mosquito get you so down.’

They turn on the light and hunt the tiny vampire, the stealer of sleep. Dad finds it on the curtain and smacks at it with gusto. And when it escapes, mom gets in on the act, pinning it against the window to ensure a mangled death. Happy to have fixed the problem, they leave their boy’s room, sleepy but proud, secure in the fact that all is now fine.

But it is not fine. I know this because I am an omniscient narrator. You can picture me however you want: a thin bearded man with a limp, a midget with a lisp, a gray-haired gypsy woman with a glass eye and an orange cat, but that has no bearing on the story. All you need to know is that I am far more familiar with Andy’s situation than he is, or his parents are (bless their hearts), and I’m willing to share my knowledge with you. You see: though I’ve titled and set it up that way, this story isn’t really about a mosquito at all. It was merely a convenient scapegoat (insects so often are) to Andy, and a narrative mechanism to me. This story is about the exact night on which a boy is forced to make the jump from innocuous childhood to messy adulthood.

His parents have no idea that all night long, Andy’s been seeing images, and entertaining thoughts he is not yet capable of processing cleanly. Images of naked boys and their private parts. Thoughts of touching and playing and doing. And now they rush back in to fill the room’s dark silence. He hates them, yet welcomes them back; resents, yet molds them, and they make him feel uncomfortably warm and horribly intrigued, and of course, guilty too. No brand of lust is easy to fathom and harness at age eleven, and this one’s got him beat, at least for now. Here is a new hunger he has no place to put. And that is the root of his anxiety.

There. That’s all I wanted to say. I’m not sure I have a specific point to make. I just think the events of this particular night describe a loaded, meaningful moment in this character’s life and thought you’d be interested in the truth behind them. I thought it would be cool for you have a quick glance at the surface, before becoming omniscient too, and gaining deeper insight than the both kid and his parents do.

Who knows what will become of them all tomorrow, or later on in life. My knowledge is limited to the length of this story, and the night in question. And now, literally, I have nothing more to say.

By E.M. Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

10 Responses to Drop #59: Mosquito

  1. Hey, I like the authorial intervention in this. Doesn’t seem as showy as it sometimes does. Quick question though: is there a link between the orange hearted parents and the orange cat or was it just incidental?

  2. I really love your writing. You are gifted.

  3. MCL says:

    Great pleasure, daily pleasure, thanks!

  4. Really powerful narrative. Personally, I go for strong narrative, prefer it to a lot of dialog. I’m rewriting my early stuff, removing dialog except where it makes a point. Like the climactic “His parents have no idea.. ” para. Great.

  5. EM Vireo says:

    Cool. I usually rely quite a bit on dialogue, so I’m glad the narrative was strong- kind of important here, since it’s about narration.

  6. Intense Hsiu says:

    Can I picture you as a black crazy gay oiled bodybuilder with pink nails?
    Excellent again, thanks

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