Emulation: Woolf

Wow, I had saved my blog post as a draft and never returned to post it. :/
Better late than never, I suppose.
Sorry, Dave!


One evening, I sat in my room, thinking. Caught in between thoughts, I stopped to take in the silence, the peace, that surrounded me. I was abruptly jarred by an annoying whizzing sound, breaking the silence. Buzzing, whizzing, and clicking, I found the source of the sound to be a fly that had found its way into my room through my screen-less window which I had carelessly left open. The fly was trapped in the space between my window and the shade that covered the window, relentlessly trying to free itself from the small area. I tried my best to ignore the sound, yet found myself unsuccessful. Being afraid of bugs, or maybe just incredibly repulsed by them, I decided to leave the room, knowing that opening and closing the door would cause wind to rattle the window shade; as if to tell the fly he was unwanted. I returned to find that the fly had changed venues and now occupied the space around the ugly fluorescent light, buzzing and whizzing around, colliding with the light, flying away, then repeating; his presence now completely undeniable. Annoyed with this unwelcome guest, and also noticing a drop in the room temperature, I shut the window. "HA, try getting out now, stupid," I thought to myself, crawling into bed.
The next morning I woke up, shivering cold, to realize that I had left the window cracked. I thought about how warm I might be if I had just closed the window entirely, cursing my stupidity. I remembered the fly, and wondered whether he had taken notice of the drop in temperature and fled the scene; in fact, I hoped he had. Little house flies, like my visitor, only have a life span of about 24-48 hours, give or take. As annoying and unwelcome my guest may have been, his intentions were not that of malice. I thought about what life would be like if I, too, only had a 24-48 hour life span. I certainly wouldn't be considerate of the monstrous being whose house I was invading; nor would I care whether my explorations bothered the monster. I would care about one thing, and one thing alone: comfort. I opened the shade, feeling guilty of my hatred for this simple creature, hoping it would fly out so I could officially welcome it as my guest for the remainder of its short life. As the shade opened, a little black body fell onto the window sill, silently, dead. I opened the window and pushed its lifeless body till it tumbled through the air and finally dropped to the ground, sadly.