Fragments - Flash Anthology

Seven

What holds the world up? The sweat of labor? The shoulders of Atlas? Or is it turtles all the way down?

No, it's none of those things, nor any other story you've heard before. Unless you already know of the tiny gods who we all owe. But you shouldn't know of them for I am their discoverer and now their voice. Unless these tiny people are just as failed as we, and are just as likely to partake in vice and deceit.

But enough distraction, that's not my goal, nor theirs, as far as I know. The whole world is made up of tiny beings, and they're tired of me and you. Yes, it's the pain we inflict upon their Earth, for it's their backs we're ravaging, in their souls torment we sow.

What? You don't see them? So they cannot be real? Why, they're in your bones, in your marrow, in your whole! Atoms? Quarks? Yes, yes, they live there too! They dance in circles, their music shapes every particle you know. But the tiny gods are not dancing anymore.

So clean up your act, and do your diligence. Listen to their words that I tell. Else, one day, the threads of all you know will go on strike and all will unravel. You, me, the world we live upon. All of it will go. Do not anger the little people any further or their support will be no more.