November 25, 2025

The Ants

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

You lie in the grass and let ants crawl all over you. You lie so perfectly still that they start to think you’re just another part of the landscape—a rock, a log, a statue. They crawl in your ears and your nose and under your eyelids. You think, I’m just a performance for people to watch, but all I want to be is invisible. Your invisibility spills over you, coating your body like oil. Everything in the unnatural world is a transaction. Sin most of all. What if you could pause and stop it all? Digress from existence? You make your breathing shallow and soft. All the ordinary people walk by you muttering. A woman blames the drug lords and vows to write her senator when she gets home. As she passes, you can see a tuft of her white hair, like a cloud in the blue sky. You wish you could rip off your skin. Slowly unpeel it like a reptile. Nothing happens. Nothing happening is a surprise. Eventually, you realize you’re just like everyone else except in your mind. You sit up and brush off the ants. You put your hand over your mouth to cover the sob.

About the Author

Holly Lyn WalrathHolly Lyn Walrath is a writer, editor, and publisher. Her poetry and short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Fireside Fiction, Analog, and Flash Fiction Online. She is the author of several books of poetry, including Glimmerglass Girl (2018), Numinose Lapidi (2020), and The Smallest of Bones (2021). She holds a BA in English from The University of Texas and a Master’s in Creative Writing from the University of Denver. In 2019, she launched Interstellar Flight Press, an indie SFF publisher dedicated to publishing underrepresented genres and voices.

Related Flash
stainless cooking pot with water

White Cold Winter

By Willow Campbell

“In the stillness of my apartment, I boil water to watch something move. I like bubbles when they grow into noises I can notice like the ghost of someone’s laugh.”

macro photography of colorful hummingbird

Hummingbirds Remember Every Flower They Visit

By Beth Sherman

“When the hummingbird hovers over the dead coneflower, Dylan stops twirling to get a better view. He’s made himself dizzy, staggering across our backyard, loopy from spinning, and we try to imagine how the tiny creature appears to him, its scarlet throat a blur, its beak vibrating shakily.”

pink steel water pump behind blue fence

If You Must Know

By Barbara Diggs

“You saw your lil friends drown in a whirlpool of white, one by one, or sometimes one by two like when Tay-Tay got shot during a pickup and the bullet passed through his neck and hit Raymond in the shoulder as he was running away.”

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This