icantwrite

There was an infestation problem in the block of flats that Shine grew up in. It wasn’t rats, or cockroaches – but tiny beetles and caterpillars. The beetles were black and scurried too quickly, when cornered they’d take to the air – landing in hair, on clothes, in faces - kamikaze style. The caterpillars were tiny little things, striped black and brown – hairy and slow moving. Sometimes, when he caught one, he’d keep it alive and feed it, like the pet he was never allowed. It was never entirely clear where they came from, they’d just appear along skirting boards, on walls, on carpet and laminate. They were harmless, but it was deemed that something needed to be done. The menace was clearly an indicator of an underlying issue, so action was to be taken – eventually. The council, being slow moving, as always, took years to call in the exterminators. One summer’s day they swept in, with their officious curtness – someone in the block was obviously the cause. They left poison down