"Pretty soon, entirely without volition on his part,
queer, half-formed dream things would float
through his mind . Like dark , polliwogs. Propelling themselves along with their tails, hinting
at secrets that nobody knew, not even grown-ups.
Some day he would be able to catch one, quickly,
before it wriggled off into the inner hidden chamber where They had a nest and, then , he would
know."
"He had only had it for a split second but he remembered it had blind, weepy eyes and was smooth."
"'"And make a thinking-time-dream-thing hold still so's I can get it. So's I'll know. I guess that's all. Hahneeweemahneemo, O Idol of the Flies, you are free to GO!'"
"Another—shooting itself along with its tail—its
greasy sides ashine . Another—and another—and
another—and then a seething whirlpool of them.
There had never been so many . Spiny, pulpy, slick
and eellike, some with feelers like catfish, some
with white, gaping mouths and foreshortened
embryo arms."
"Its nose
holes went in and out, in and out, in and out, like
something he had known long ago in some past,
mysterious other life , and it whimpered as it came
and whispered things to him."
Jane Rice, The Idol Of the Flies
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