"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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