The Fly at the Fair

The fly had never known anything but hunger. Its brief, frantic existence had been a ceaseless chase, drawn by the putrid aroma of decay and the irresistible stench of rot. It fluttered through the world with singular purpose, its delicate wings trembling as it sought out filth, its tiny feet clinging to the slick surfaces of garbage, carcasses, and waste. The rank air of the porta-potty was a banquet, an all-encompassing paradise that promised nothing but indulgence.

It landed on the plastic rim of the seat, its spindly legs barely making a sound. Without a second thought, it dropped down, its proboscis unfurling to drink from the vile, sludgy fluids below. There was no pause, no revulsion, only the endless urge to consume. The darkness was irrelevant. The filth was sustenance. Nothing else existed.

And then, everything changed. There was no blinding light, no shuddering explosion. Just a sudden, incomprehensible shift. A torrent of something vast and alien flooded its mind, shattering the simplicity of instinct. Thought. Awareness. A self that had never existed before. She was… standing.

A ragged gasp tore from her lips as she staggered back, her legs—legs—tangling beneath her. She nearly collapsed onto the grimy plastic floor. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she stared down at herself, disbelief clawing at her sanity. Denim shorts. A tank top. Sneakers scuffed against the filth-streaked surface. Hands—hands—trembled as she raised them, fingers flexing, nails scraping against her palms.

The porta-potty remained unchanged: the same cramped, plastic walls, the same dim light filtering through the vent slats, the same overwhelming stench of waste and chemicals thick in the humid air. Yet, something felt different.

Her gaze drifted downward. The murky depths where she had once fed, where her only purpose had been to gorge, now churned with movement. At first, she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing: a shifting, undulating surface of pink flesh, bodies pressed together, tangled limbs slipping over each other in frantic, mindless desperation. Humans, the same creatures who had once towered over her, who had swatted her kind from the air without a second thought, were now reduced to this. They scurried over the filth, their minuscule fingers clawing at the sludge, their lips pressed against it as they devoured it without hesitation, without thought. Their eyes were vacant, their faces smeared with waste, their bodies slick with filth as they gorged themselves. Some buzzed frantically with their translucent wings as they hovered above the pit, dipping low to land in the muck before burrowing in. Others crawled over each other, trampling their own kind in their insatiable hunger, oblivious to the suffocating press of bodies beneath them.

A sickening squelch echoed as they shifted, as they fed. She swayed on her feet, nausea curling in her gut. She clamped a hand over her mouth, bile stinging the back of her tongue. "Oh… oh, that’s disgusting."

The tiny figures twitched at the sound of her voice but didn’t stop. They didn’t even acknowledge her. They were too lost in their gluttony.

Her knees wobbled as she backed away from the seat, eyes wide with horror. That’s what I used to be? That’s what I used to do?

The thought lodged itself deep, an unbearable truth she wanted to reject. I was never like that. I wasn’t.

But even as she tried to deny it, she knew the truth. The endless hunger, the blind, filthy indulgence, it had been hers. She had been exactly like them. And now, she was above them.

A sudden shift in her gut made her freeze. A deep, gurgling sensation rolled through her stomach, heavy and undeniable. Her breath hitched. Slowly, her eyes flicked back toward the seat. And then, she smirked.

“Well,” she murmured, stepping forward as her fingers toyed with the waistband of her shorts, “since you’re all so hungry…”

The writhing figures below didn’t look up. They didn’t react at all as she turned around, unbuttoned the denim, and lowered herself onto the seat. She settled in, the plastic cool against her skin. A slow chuckle escaped her lips. “Bon appétit.”

A faint trickle echoed through the confined space as she let herself relax, releasing a steady, warm stream into the reeking depths below. The relief was immediate, but so was the reaction.

Below, the tiny humans stirred, their movements shifting with an unsettling eagerness. Though they never paused in their mindless feasting, she could hear them buzzing closer, their tiny bodies scraping wetly against the filth. The slick squelching of their hands, the grotesque rustling of their forms clambering over each other, sent an involuntary shudder down her spine.

Then came the plops, one after another, solid and heavy, splashing into the slop beneath her. The reaction was instant. The swarm scattered for the briefest moment before surging forward again, clawing, grasping with their pitiful little hands. They fought for it, for her. The waste she had expelled only seconds ago was now their most coveted prize. The stench rose, thick and pungent, curling around her like a ghost of her past self. She wrinkled her proboscis, fanning a hand in front of her face with a grimace.

“Wow.” she muttered, half amused, half horrified. “That is rank.”

She dared to glance down between her legs, just for a moment, but she immediately regretted it. Her stomach twisted violently at the sight below: a writhing mass of tiny bodies, their limbs slick with filth, their faces smeared with what had once been inside her. They clambered over one another, pushing, wriggling, desperate to consume every last morsel. Their mouths moved in silent hunger, their faces grasping at the muck, shoving it into their eager, unthinking mouths.

A gag rose in her throat. Her compound eyes squeezed shut as she forced back the nausea. “Ugh. Okay. Nope. Big mistake.”

Yet, despite the overwhelming disgust, a smirk tugged at her lips. They were pathetic. They had no shame, no self-awareness, just insatiable hunger. And she… she was above them now. She was better.

With a final shudder, she reached for the toilet paper, cleaning up quickly before standing and redressing. She barely spared the creatures below another glance as she squeezed the bottle of sanitizer, rubbing the cool gel over her hands until the stench faded from her skin.

The moment she pushed open the plastic door, fresh air rushed in, sweeping away the lingering filth. The scent of fried food and warm sugar hit her immediately, cleansing away the foul memory of the porta-potty. She took a deep breath, letting the festival atmosphere wrap around her.

“Hey, you good?”

She turned, and her multifaceted eyes immediately locked onto a striking male insect standing casually amidst the colorful blur of the festival. He was a dark green beetle, his glossy exoskeleton catching the neon glow of nearby lights, reflecting hints of gold and emerald with every subtle shift of his stance. His broad frame was sturdy yet sleek, his chitin smooth and well-formed, accentuating the slight but noticeable musculature beneath.

His mandibles twitched in quiet amusement, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk as he held out an ice cream cone. His easy posture, the relaxed way he carried himself, radiated a familiar confidence. There was no hesitation in his movements, no question in the way he looked at her. She didn’t need to ask. She could feel it in the way his gaze lingered, the way his antennae gave a barely perceptible flick in her direction. He was hers, and she was her boyfriend. And from the way he was looking at her, like he knew something she didn’t, she could tell he’d been waiting for her.

She blinked, then grinned, taking the cone from his outstretched hand. “Yeah.” she said, dragging her tongue slowly over the cold, sweet surface. The taste of vanilla spread across her tongue, cleansing the last remnants of that other life. She licked her lips, savoring the moment. “Never better.”

With her boyfriend’s arm wrapped around her waist, she strolled through the bustling fairgrounds, taking in the lively atmosphere. The neon glow of carnival rides flickered against the evening sky, illuminating the sea of insects wandering between food stalls, game booths, and towering attractions. Laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the mouthwatering scent of fried food and spun sugar.

She took another slow lick of her ice cream, savoring the way the cool sweetness melted on her tongue. Her multifaceted eyes wandered over the scene before her: young insect larvae bouncing on their feet, their antennae twitching with excitement as they tugged their parents toward a carousel; a group of teenage girls laughing as they snapped selfies near the towering Ferris wheel, striking exaggerated poses; an elderly couple sitting close on a bench, quietly sharing a basket of fries as they watched the fair unfold.

It was a beautiful sight, one that filled her with a deep sense of satisfaction. This is how things should be. Her kind no longer scurried in the shadows, no longer spent their days in degradation, feeding off scraps, constantly in fear of being crushed beneath an indifferent foot. They lived with dignity now. They belonged.

She leaned into her boyfriend’s warmth, her proboscis twitching slightly in contentment. “It’s such a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

He glanced down at her, his golden eyes glinting under the carnival lights. His mandibles twitched into a smile. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just as she was about to take another lick of her ice cream, a faint buzzing prickled her antennae. A tiny, winged blur darted toward her cone. Her exoskeleton prickled in irritation as the minuscule human hovered inches from her treat, its beady eyes locked onto the melting vanilla.

She scowled, pulling the cone away and flicking her free hand at it. “Ugh, get lost.”

The pathetic thing tumbled midair, its delicate limbs flailing before it righted itself and zipped away, disappearing into the sea of insects. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mild disgust before indulging in another slow, deliberate bite of her ice cream.

The further they wandered through the fairgrounds, the less appealing the cone became. What had once been a perfect swirl was now a sticky, uneven mess, dribbling over her fingers in thin, syrupy trails. She sighed, slowing her pace as she glanced around for a trash bin.

“Ugh, I’m full.” she muttered, shaking her head as she held the half-eaten cone at arm’s length.

Her boyfriend chuckled beside her. “Didn’t think you’d finish it.”

She smirked, then stepped toward a nearby garbage bin. With a casual flick of her wrist, the ice cream tumbled from her grasp, landing with a soft, wet plop atop a pile of discarded wrappers and leftover food.

As she turned to leave, a flicker of movement caught her eye. A handful of tiny humans buzzed around the bin, their frail bodies twitching as they hesitantly drew closer. Their beady eyes gleamed in the dim fairground light, fixated on the sugary mess she had so casually discarded.

She paused, tilting her head. A slow, amused chuckle slipped from her lips. “Pathetic.”

She reached for a napkin, wiping her sticky fingers clean before tossing it into the bin as well. One of the humans flinched at the sudden movement, shrinking back before hesitantly creeping forward again, lured by the scent of sugar. Her smirk deepened. It was almost sad. Almost.

Her boyfriend nudged her playfully. “Come on, let’s go see the animals.”

She turned to him, her amusement lingering as he gestured toward one of the fairground barns. “Sure.”

With one last glance at the pitiful scavengers below, she took his hand, allowing him to lead her toward the barn, leaving the tiny, scrambling humans behind without a second thought.

As they stepped into the barn, a thick, earthy scent enveloped them, a potent mix of hay, warm animal bodies, and something far less pleasant. The sharp tang of manure clung to the air, making her nostrils twitch in protest. She wrinkled her proboscis, but no one else seemed to mind. Around her, families strolled casually through the aisles, pointing and laughing as they admired the cows, pigs, and goats penned behind wooden fences. The deep, rhythmic huffs of livestock mixed with the excited chatter of larvae and the occasional snort or whinny from the animals.

Her boyfriend gave her hand a squeeze. “I always forget how big these things are up close.” he murmured, nodding toward a massive cow lazily chewing its cud, its jaw moving in slow, deliberate circles. But she barely heard him. Her attention was elsewhere.

Movement flickered at the edges of her vision, just beneath the looming forms of the animals. Near their hooves, in the dim recesses where manure and straw mixed into a damp, pungent mess, something stirred. Tiny figures, flitting and scurrying through the filth, their minuscule bodies twitching with restless energy.

Humans. They were here, too, crawling over fresh piles of droppings, their paper-thin wings fluttering weakly as they hovered over the steaming waste. Some had already landed, sinking their frail limbs into the moist heaps as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She shuddered in disgust.

Do they even know what they’re doing? she wondered. Or are they just… acting on instinct?

She watched as one particularly plump human scurried across the barn floor, dragging something unidentifiable toward a mound of dung. Its spindly legs worked furiously, its tiny hands clutching its disgusting prize as it trudged toward the reeking pile.

Another had latched onto a goat’s rear, clinging obliviously as the animal flicked its tail in irritation. The creature barely reacted to the flick, as if it had no understanding of the inconvenience it was causing, no sense of dignity, no awareness of its own degradation.

She swallowed hard, a wave of nausea rolling through her. Her boyfriend’s voice pulled her back. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She hesitated before forcing a smile, though it felt stiff on her face. “Just… watching them.”

He followed her gaze but only shrugged, unconcerned. This was nothing unusual to him. To him, this was normal. The world had always been this way. But she knew better. She remembered when the roles had been reversed, when her kind had been the ones scuttling through the cracks, scraping for survival, living at the mercy of creatures who never gave them a second thought. She had lived that life. She had been that. And now? Now, humans were the ones groveling in the dirt, scavenging from those far above them.

She turned away, exhaling slowly, letting the tension drain from her shoulders. They walked on, weaving through the fairgoers admiring the livestock. She kept her gaze forward, ignoring the tiny, writhing figures in the shadows, their desperate feasting nothing more than background noise. This was how things were now. And honestly? It was better this way.

As she and her boyfriend strolled deeper into the barn, she let her gaze drift over the towering animals confined within their pens. Massive bodies stood idly in the dim light, tails flicking lazily at unseen irritants. Some let out deep, rumbling breaths, others released the occasional grunt or snort, shifting their weight in the straw-lined enclosures. The scent of hay and warm animal musk was thick in the air, but beneath it lingered the sharp, sour tang of waste.

It was strange to think that these creatures had remained untouched by the shift that had upended everything else. While the world around them had transformed, while entire hierarchies had been rewritten, they had stayed the same. Simple. Unchanged. Indifferent to the power struggles of smaller beings.

Her eyes wandered past them, scanning the dimly lit barn until they landed on a teenage ant slouched in a plastic chair near the stalls—a handler, most likely. The girl wore faded, slightly dirt-streaked overalls, her phone held loosely in one hand as she lazily scrolled, her antennae drooping in a clear display of boredom. One leg was draped over the chair’s armrest, while the other dangled off the side, swinging slightly in a slow, unconscious rhythm. Her boots lay discarded beneath her, kicked off without a care, leaving only a pair of well-worn socks stretched over her feet—thin, slightly damp from hours spent working in the humid barn.

But it wasn’t the girl who held her attention. It was them.

A human buzzed around the handler’s foot, its paper-thin wings beating frantically before it landed against the sock's fabric. Its tiny pink body stood out starkly against the dark cotton, a pathetic little blemish crawling across the coarse fibers. It moved eagerly, scurrying in erratic, mindless patterns, as if savoring every inch of the sweat-soaked material. Its spindly limbs clutched at the threads, rubbing its body against the fabric in weak, desperate motions.

She had to bite back a laugh. This was what they had become. Drawn to filth, to sweat, to the cast-off remnants of larger beings, these pathetic creatures no longer had the sense to be ashamed of their existence. Did this one even know what it was doing? Did it remember what it once was, what it had lost? Or was it nothing more than a thing now, running on pure, base instinct, a mindless parasite crawling through the lowest corners of existence?

The handler absentmindedly wiggled her foot, a lazy twitch that should have been enough to send the pathetic creature flying. But the human barely hesitated. Its tiny wings fluttered for an instant, then it reattached itself, this time closer to the damp arch of her sole, as if drawn to the very heat radiating from her skin.

She scoffed, shaking her head. Maybe it deserves this. There had been a time when she might have pitied them, when she might have ached at the thought of what they had lost, of the reversal that had cast them into the shadows of a world they had once ruled. But now? Watching this pathetic creature cling so desperately to something so vile, so beneath her, all she felt was quiet satisfaction. Without a second glance, she turned and kept walking, leaving the human to its wretched obsession.

As they stepped out of the barn, the thick scent of hay and livestock still clinging to the air, her boyfriend suddenly scratched at his arm with an irritated grunt.

“Ugh.” He swatted at something near his neck, rubbing the spot aggressively. “They’re everywhere tonight.”

She glanced over, watching as he inspected his skin. A few red bumps had already begun to rise along his forearm. He had been getting progressively more agitated over the past few minutes, brushing at his arms, his legs, even the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably as if something unseen was crawling over him. Now, he was looking at her expectantly.

"You have the spray, right?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, hold on."

Shifting her purse onto her shoulder, she dug through its contents, fingers brushing against her wallet, a crumpled pack of gum, and a few loose receipts before finally wrapping around the smooth, familiar canister. She pulled it out and turned it over in her hands, briefly scanning the label as if reading it for the first time.

Human-Repellant Body Spray – Long-Lasting Protection Against Bites & Nuisance Buzzing

Beneath the bold title, a list of promises stood out in bright, reassuring text: Repels even the most persistent humans! Sweat-resistant! Safe for all exoskin types!

She smirked. How the tables have turned.

Satisfied, she handed the bottle to her boyfriend. “Here. Give ’em hell.”

He wasted no time uncapping it and spraying a generous mist over his arms and neck. A sharp, chemical scent filled the air, cutting through the lingering barnyard musk. He sighed in relief, rubbing the cooling formula into his skin.

She wrinkled her proboscis playfully. “Careful, you’ll choke us both before the humans even get the chance.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, tossing the bottle back into her purse before wrapping an arm around her waist again. “Better than being eaten alive.”

She leaned into him as they walked, a slow smile tugging at her lips. Yeah, she thought, much better.

As they wandered past the festival attractions, the night pulsed with life. Laughter and music weaved through the air, blending with the scents of fried dough and spun sugar. The neon lights of carnival rides flashed in rhythmic patterns, illuminating the endless flow of insectkind enjoying the festivities.

Among the chaos, the bouncy house stood out like a beacon of joy, its bright, inflated walls trembling under the enthusiastic assault of young larvae. They flung themselves into the air with reckless abandon, screaming as they tumbled and bounced against the springy surface. Their delighted shrieks rang through the air as they pushed their limits, testing how high they could go, how many flips they could land before gravity reclaimed them.

Nearby, a young mosquito girl came sprinting across the pavement, shoeless and breathless, her sneakers clutched in one hand as she made a beeline for her parents. Her antennae twitched wildly as she nearly tripped over herself in her eagerness to share the moment.

“Did you see me?” she gushed, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she came to a stop in front of them. “I did a flip! Like, a full flip! I didn’t even mean to, but it just happened! I think I could do it again!”

Her parents chuckled, watching her fondly as she babbled on about her impromptu gymnastics, her words spilling out as fast as her body had moments before. Still charged with energy, she plopped onto the bench beside them, pulling one foot up onto the seat to shove it back into her sneaker. Strands of grass clung to her socked sole, stuck to the slightly damp fabric from her earlier antics. But they weren’t the only things hitching a ride. Tiny humans crawled over the soft cotton, their pink bodies stark against the white, their minuscule limbs twitching as they scrambled aimlessly across the fabric.

As she continued chattering, she absentmindedly brushed at her foot, sweeping away the blades of grass and dislodging most of the tiny hitchhikers without so much as a glance. They tumbled off her sock like stray specks of dust, landing on the pavement below, forgotten before they even hit the ground. One, however, was more stubborn. It clung tightly to the fibers of her sock, tiny limbs flexing as it scurried toward the underside of her foot. Desperate and determined, it crawled up toward her heel, its pinkish skin nearly blending against the bright pink section of fabric at the heel.

The mosquito girl barely noticed, she simply felt an itch. With an absentminded sigh, she rubbed her heel against her palm, pressing her fingers firmly against the soft fabric, unintentionally crushing the little nuisance. She flicked the remnants off her sock, sending them scattering onto the pavement like crumbs, then continued tugging on her sneaker. Never once did she look down. Never once did she acknowledge what had just happened.

The fly smirked to herself. Good girl.

It still amazed her how normal all of this was now, how their kind no longer had to be afraid, no longer had to live in constant fear of being swatted, crushed, or drowned on a whim. Now, they were the ones with power, the ones who could flick aside the nuisance without a second thought.

A warm squeeze around her fingers pulled her attention back.

“Want to try some of those carnival games?” her boyfriend asked, his voice light with amusement.

She cast one last glance at the bouncy house, watching the larvae launch themselves into the air, completely carefree. Then she smiled up at him. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The carnival games stretched before them in a dazzling display of flashing lights and oversized prizes, each booth promising the thrill of victory or the agony of near misses. Bells clanged, buzzers blared, and laughter rippled through the crowd as insects of all sizes tested their skills—tossing rings, aiming water guns, and swinging mallets with the hope of sending a puck soaring to the top of a strength meter. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fried food and sweet confections, a perfect backdrop to the energy of the fair.

Her boyfriend led her to a booth lined with colorful stuffed animals, a challenge where players had to knock down a pyramid of metal cans with a single throw. The attendant, a beetle with a lazy grin, handed over a weighted ball as her boyfriend sized up his target.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You think you got this?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

He smirked, rolling the ball between his fingers. “Please. This is nothing.”

Just as he adjusted his stance, a flicker of movement caught her eye. A small human buzzed into view, its erratic flight path bringing it dangerously close to his hand. It wavered uncertainly in the air, drawn in by the scent of sweat and festival food, its tiny body twitching with desperate hunger.

Her boyfriend scowled, shaking his arm. “Ugh. So much for the spray helping.”

She chuckled, watching the pathetic creature struggle to hold on. “Guess they just like you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like them.”

With an irritated grunt, he snapped his wrist, sending the human tumbling helplessly through the air. It spiraled out of sight, likely landing somewhere in the filth-ridden corners of the fairgrounds, lost among the scraps and discarded refuse where it belonged.

Satisfied, he refocused, squared his shoulders, and with a swift, fluid motion, launched the ball at the stack of cans. The impact was dead center. A sharp clang rang out as the pyramid collapsed in a chaotic scatter of metal, the pieces tumbling and clattering against the booth’s counter.

She grinned, clapping. “Nice!”

The booth attendant let out a low whistle, nodding in approval before reaching up to grab one of the prizes: a ridiculously soft plush animal, nearly the size of his head. He turned to her, his triumphant smile only widening as he held it out.

“For you.”

She smirked, taking it and pressing it against her chest. “Aw, my hero.”

As they strolled away from the booth, she let her gaze drift over the bustling fairgrounds. More humans flitted about in the shadows, crawling between the legs of festival-goers, hovering over sticky patches of spilled drinks, or clinging unnoticed to the backs of those too distracted by the excitement to feel the weight of their tiny burdens. They were everywhere, still struggling to find their place in a world that had moved on without them. But the difference now? They didn’t matter anymore.

Grinning, she squeezed the plush against her chest and let her boyfriend lead her toward the next challenge, the sounds of the carnival swelling around them like a triumphant symphony. After several rounds of games and a few shared victories, her boyfriend suddenly slowed his steps, exhaling as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

“Hold up.” he muttered, glancing around. “I gotta take a leak.”

She followed his gaze toward the row of blue porta-potties stationed at the festival’s edge. The familiar pungent mixture of disinfectant and filth tainted the air, a stomach-churning reminder of what lay inside. She wrinkled her proboscis but said nothing as he headed toward the closest door.

“I’ll be quick.” he assured her before stepping inside, the plastic latch clicking shut behind him.

Left alone, she leaned against a nearby fence, arms crossed as she idly scanned the fairgrounds. The crowd bustled with life: young couples clutching oversized plushies, larvae racing past with sticky hands, and groups of friends gathered around booths, their laughter ringing through the night.

Beside her, a garbage bin overflowed with discarded wrappers, crumpled napkins, and half-eaten festival treats. But what really caught her attention were the humans crawling over the refuse, desperately clinging to whatever scraps they could find. One clung to a sticky popsicle stick, gnawing at the last remnants of melted sugar like it was a rare delicacy. Another was hunched over a crumpled hot dog wrapper, its minuscule hands scraping at the leftover mustard smear with frantic determination.

She sneered. Absolutely pathetic. Had her kind really once lived like this? Fighting for scraps, their existence reduced to a constant, desperate scurry for survival? The thought sent a chill down her spine.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. On impulse, she pulled it open and rummaged through its contents: a phone, a small compact mirror, a set of jingling keys. Then, at the very bottom, her fingers brushed against something smooth and rectangular: a wallet.

She flipped it open, her breath catching as she stared at the plastic ID card tucked into its clear sleeve. Her name. Her face. Her life. Proof that she belonged here, that this was who she was always meant to be.

Her gaze drifted back to the crowd just in time to spot a mother and her young son strolling past, the larva no older than five or six. He fidgeted as he walked, swatting at his arms, his mandibles twisted in frustration, his antennae twitching uncontrollably.

"Mom, they keep landing on me!" he whined, shifting uncomfortably.

The mother sighed, juggling a bright pink shopping bag stuffed with carnival prizes as she reached into her purse. A moment later, she pulled out a slim bottle, gave it a few quick shakes, and held it up.

“Hold still.” she instructed before spritzing a fine mist over his arms and legs.

The boy scrunched his face as the cool spray coated his skin but quickly relaxed, stretching out his arms with an approving grin. “That’s better!”

“See?” his mother said, slipping the bottle back into her bag. “Now they won’t bother you anymore.”

Sure enough, the humans that had been clinging to the boy’s skin twitched violently before tumbling off, their tiny bodies convulsing on the pavement. A few weakly buzzed away, but most lay still, their limbs spasming as the repellent did its work. The mother and larva didn’t spare them another glance as they walked off, their conversation shifting back to festival rides and prizes as if nothing had happened.

She let out a quiet chuckle. How the tables have turned.

A moment later, the porta-potty door creaked open, and her boyfriend stepped out, stretching his arms over his head.

“Ugh.” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I swear, they never clean those things.”

She quickly slid the wallet back into her purse and smirked. “What, expecting luxury in a plastic box?”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

She pushed off the fence and slipped her arm through his as he asked, “Alright, where to next?”

“Anywhere but here.” she said, casting one last glance at the dying humans on the pavement before turning away with a smirk.

As she and her boyfriend wandered back into the heart of the fair, they stopped at one of the game booths, drawn in by the flashing lights and colorful prizes dangling overhead. A long line had formed, and she sighed as they took their place at the back, settling in to wait.

Just ahead of them stood a trio of preteen larvae, their chittering laughter carrying easily over the surrounding noise. Two boys and a girl, all dressed in breezy summer clothes, radiating the kind of carefree energy that only came with youth. One of the boys clutched a half-eaten funnel cake, powdered sugar coating his dark fingers and dusting the fuzz around his mandibles. His friend, hands animated with excitement, was gesturing wildly as he explained some elaborate strategy for the game ahead. The girl, adjusting the scrunchie around her antennae, smirked at them both, the kind of confident smirk that said she knew she was going to win, and she was going to enjoy proving it.

She watched them with quiet amusement, knowing that these larvae had their whole lives ahead of them, lives filled with opportunity, security, and success. They would grow up surrounded by family, attend good schools, build careers. They would never know what it was like to live in fear of being swatted out of existence, to scavenge desperately for food, to be seen as nothing more than a nuisance.

Unlike the humans.

She glanced down and, sure enough, there they were. A few of the tiny creatures were crawling along the bare legs of the larvae, scuttling in mindless pursuit of any trace of sugar or sweat they could cling to. One struggled up the girl’s shin, its minuscule limbs working tirelessly as it chased the lingering sweetness from her earlier snack. Another clung to the hem of one boy’s shorts, swaying slightly with his movements, unnoticed.

They were nothing now. No more cities, no more technology, no more achievements. Just mindless little things, scurrying along in search of scraps, reduced to living in filth and hoping they didn’t get absentmindedly crushed underfoot.

The girl in front of her shifted suddenly, her antennae twitching as if sensing something. Without a second thought, she reached down and brushed at her leg, knocking the human loose. The tiny thing tumbled through the air before landing in the packed earth below, limbs flailing in panic.

No one noticed. Not the girl, not her friends, not anyone in line. And why would they? Humans were beneath them, so insignificant they weren’t even worth acknowledging.

She smirked, crossing her arms as the line moved forward. It really is a better world now.

They spent the next hour playing game after game, their competitive spirits keeping them engaged. Her boyfriend won a stuffed animal at the ring toss, proudly handing it to her as if it were a grand prize. She, in turn, bested him at the balloon dart game, smirking as she claimed her own reward: a small plush cow.

The fairground lights sparkled above them, casting a warm glow over the bustling festival. The scent of fried food and spun sugar still hung in the air, blending with the distant laughter of larvae and the excited chatter of families. Everything about the night felt alive, vibrant, and perfect.

Eventually, as they wandered past yet another row of games, her boyfriend let out a small sigh and stretched his arms. “Alright.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Starting to get tired. Should we head home?”

She exhaled, hugging the plushie close to her chest. “Yeah.” she admitted, casting a final glance at the glowing fairgrounds. “I had fun.”

Hand in hand, they began making their way toward the exit, weaving through the thinning crowds. The neon signs still flickered brightly, illuminating cheerful groups of insects enjoying the final moments of the festival. A group of larvae dashed through the pathways, their laughter trailing behind them like music. Couples lounged near the food stalls, sharing the last bites of deep-fried treats. Families passed by, their arms full of prizes, their voices carrying warm, happy exhaustion.

And then, there were the humans. She almost didn’t bother looking, but habit drew her gaze downward. There they were, crawling between the legs of the festival-goers, skittering toward fallen morsels of food, buzzing weakly over spilled drinks. A few clung to the edges of discarded wrappers, nibbling pathetically at whatever crumbs they could find. Others flitted uselessly near the garbage bins, searching, scrounging, surviving on the scraps of a world that no longer belonged to them. They were so small, so insignificant, so pitiful.

She smirked. Life was good. Life was better. And the world? The world was finally as it should be.