a life thats but a breath of air.

Marisa Holly White
49 Barker Rd
Email: [e-mail]
Short Fiction Contest



































Life That’s but a Breath of air

      It is doubtful, to say the least, that we will be remembered long after death. Life has a way of moving on even if you do not. This is just the way of things even though we may resent it. There are those few, and they are few and far between, that are eternally remembered for the deed they have done. These deeds are usually bad, because we as humans tend to accentuate the bad, rather than the good that should be held in a higher respect. But those who are remembered have but an image left behind. And this image that may or may not be true is easily corrupted. And even an image that is true does not cover that  person entirely. Even those remembered are truly forgotten.
        But even so we strive, as many before us have, to continue on in the hopes of greatness. I with my pen, politicians with their carefully crafted words, historians with their truth, scientists with their brains, and so on to all of you. But in this desperate search for remembrance we do not notice how something very small can affect the world, even if it isn’t hugely. To affect the world in anyway is a feat greater than to be remembered.
      Like this simple lady bug here sitting prettily on the wind. It is surely not what you would have first thought of when you began your search for the ability to affect your world. But it is here where we must begin, for this simple creature has the ability to just enjoy its existence instead of questioning it. This is why it can enjoy a life unplagued by uncertainty. Every day alive is a generous gift unsurpassable by even the most pleasurable delights. It is doubtful that when it dies it will be missed very much. But this doesn’t seem to bother it as it continues on threw daily life.
      Today as the sun beat down incessantly it glided without much care threw the dry windless skies. Its wings dipped down and up so fast that it was impossible to see as more than a smudge of black caressing the air. It probably would have continued on its merry way if a wind hadn’t picked it up and placed it gently on the tip of a small girls nose.
      She smiled as the bug tickled her face with its small black legs. She tried, and unsuccessfully so, to look cross eyed at the silly little creature. After one more final attempt she picked it up excruciatingly careful not to harm the little thing. As she stared at the little bug waddling along her finger she forgot her grumpy mood and her past temper cooled until it was no more. This morning she had fought with her mother. She quickly realized fault in the argument and hurriedly ran home to make things right again.
      It is impossible to say what would have happened if she had not come into contact with the ladybug. We could not presume to know if another fight would have erupted, nor could we even guessed if more squabbles would have resulted from that. All we know is that the ladybug moved on to the inside of a house.
      The house the ladybug now rested was a white painted slate roofed house of old with faint gray shutters with an obnoxiously main stream white picket fence. It was impeccably clean and preened of dust. As for the little old lady sitting beside a dwindling wood fire, she was half asleep. She obviously prided herself on the many nice furniture she had accumulated for there was a large amount of finally adorned chairs and tables so well taken care of they might have been brand new save for their tags saying they where nearly a hundred years old. Even if the ladybug noticed these things its doubt full it cared very much. The only thing it cared for right now was escape. For somewhere in the house a candle had started a fire and smoke was rising steadily. In its haste to escape it buzzed by the old lady’s ear waking her. She scrambled for the door and was safely outside when the house became an inferno.
      The ladybug paid no mind to this as it was already floating away towards a green poppy filled meadow, leaving us only a glimpse of a little old lady standing before a brightly burning house with an obnoxiously main stream white picket fence the only thing seemingly untouched by the fames. The distant chime of sirens could be heard. What would have happened if she had not woken at that exact moment? Well we may never know.
      The lady bug rested on a leaf in that meadow later that’s very same day. It had grown up here. Here it had recently laid eggs of its own. Its world was this meadow and surrounding parks and houses.  It isn’t for me to say whether or not the ladybug was insignificant. Many say it is because it is just a bug. But it brings beauty to this world, it carries on the legacy of life and brings general happiness just by landing on a little girls face. These simple accomplishments may not seem huge but they are in fact the greatest it could have done.
      And as it rested on that leaf, swaying up and down, it was reminded of the wind and how it had flown when it had been little. It knew its children where going to hatch soon, just as it knew it would die before that happened. It didn’t realize how ever the subtle effect it had on its world, or our world for that matter. It did not know that just being alive made a difference. Even if it did I don’t know if it would really care, for even in its dieing hour it felt no sadness or fear. Only gladness for the time it had been allowed to live, and for each moment it lived until the very last minute.
      It is doubtful, as I have said before, that if it had not been mentioned her, it would have been remembered. It is even more doubtful still that it would have been more that a mere glimpse in that persons memory if it had been. But even so no one can say it had had no effect on the world, even if it itself did not realize it had..
        And that was only a lady bug whose life to us is shorter than a breath of air.