Creeps

The circular frames on his living room wall, with a stone-studded circumference and pretty butterflies inside had always attracted attention. He had got them from Rio de Janeiro.

“Are they replicas?”

“They are real, but not alive.”

He saw some people visibly cringe, imagining the ghastly crime of encasing dead butterflies, however beautiful they looked. It did not appeal to all sensibilities.

Today, the local TV channels were buzzing with the news of a teen suicide in the neighbourhood. It was attributed to the Blue Whale Challenge. His wife made some predictable, tut-tutting remarks about the state that the world had come to, while doing her weekend cleaning chores. She wouldn’t let him rest either.

“Throw this insect out. I cannot touch the creepy crawlies.”

“I have a better idea.”

“What?”

“Maybe, I could get it framed and hang it with the butterflies.”

“Are you crazy?” She was aghast.

“It will represent the cultural disintegration that you were talking about. Horror is a theme that sells.”

His twelve year old son interjected,

“I could sell it to the street hawker, claiming to offer authentic Chinese food.”

Her eyes looked like sharpened daggers. But, this would shut her up till lunch.

(200 words)

 

Sunday Photo Fiction

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