Weekly Short: The Memory Fly

He whipped the swatter with all his might, missing the memory fly completely. The damned candles from the witch were no protection at all. The thing had come in just on dusk and he’d been trying to squish it ever since.

He had no intention of stopping. One bite was all it took. He valued his memories. If the government issued spray and the woo woo from the weirdo at the market weren’t enough, then it was time to get physical.

The little pest was quick. He’d chased it around the entire cottage, the pair of them determined to keep going. The memory fly might have won, had it’s path not taken it into the wax of the candles. As it wriggled it’s last the smoke of the flame adopted a purple tinge.

Quickly he put out the candle, but for the life of him couldn’t remember why. As he did his usual routine closing windows and doors before bed, he wondered whose house he was in.