Scars and Frogs

Flash fiction inspired by the prompt: "Imagine a character who knows that they are evil and fully accepts this trait."

People don’t like to talk about me, but they’ll listen to a singing frog.

No, not the song with the banjo, although I hate that one, too. No, the one I’m talking about is where he’s sitting in a farmyard complaining about being green? Try being mean, motherfucker, just once! I dare you, you little amphibian bastard! I guarantee you’d find it even harder than riding a bicycle or dating a fully-grown pig…

Everyone likes to despise me and, over the millennia, I’ve gotten used to being a pariah. I’m not complaining, I understand my place. What most of you never seem to comprehend is that I don’t want to be here, I have to be here. That’s how it works when you’re a force of the universe. And since nothing you can say or do will change a bit of it, go fricassee a frog, why don’t you?

Most people like to seek out happiness, they seek to horde and luxuriate in it. It’s natural to prefer things that feel good, of course. They take pictures of sunsets and their plates in restaurants; they record grainy videos of the darkness at a concert and of groups doing synchronized dances. They make little memories that prove to them that they are happy.

They do all these things to try to ignore my existence.

As pure evil, I’m the one behind the famine, disease, cruelty, and violence. I’m the voice in darkness that creeps up over your shoulder in those moments when you think yourself alone. There’s a little bit of me in everyone and it has to be that way, no matter what you might want to believe. You can’t have all those good things you’re always chasing unless I’m here, waiting for when you can run no more.

And I will always be in the shadows waiting, no matter what you tell yourself.

If everything is always bathed in light, there’s none of the shading that gives depth to the relief of a surface. Think of an endless day without the respite of night: endless sunshine with not a bit of shade? Forever? The delight of the trick made by refracting water in the sky or the herbs strewn across a fresh plate of eggs Benedict mean nothing if they aren’t stood in contrast to the darkness of a tornado or food poisoning from bad Hollandaise.

Without sorrow, joy has no meaning.

People see me coming and they try to run. They want nothing more than to hide themselves away from me, in hopes that by shutting me out they’ll somehow be able to stand taller or live unburdened. It’s not like I blame them. I’m uncomfortable to look at, no one likes to spend time with evil thoughts. What no one seems to understand is that hiding from me only gives me more power. Trying to pretend I don’t exist makes it possible for me to find you at your most vulnerable.

Closing your eyes to the things in front of you isn’t a sign of courage, it’s an admission of fear.

No one can run from me forever…well, no one bent on being good, that is. Those who seek me out, those who enjoy my company, well, they’re the kind of folks most people wish they’d never met. Suits me fine, since most of them don’t last long anyway. Like a bit of clothing made from recycled petroleum, the flames of darkness consume them all too quickly.

For some, you can see it in the eyes. The cold, calculating stare that precedes actions steeped in cruelty. For others, they manage to hide it for a long while before the festering evil inside them breaks forth. They take pictures of their food and smile at kittens and puppies, but I’m there all the same lurking, waiting for the moment when it all clicks into place.

Hearing my words, I imagine you’re redoubling your commitment to only being good. To only listening to the uplifting messages and thinking overly positive thoughts. All you’re doing is leading yourself down another path to ensuring I have the ability to threaten all the warmth and joy you’ve collected.

That way of thinking imagines I can be dismissed by ignoring me. Pretending something isn’t real doesn’t mean the thing ceases to exist nor does ignoring the evidence mean that I am any less present in the world around you. All it does is make the realization that I exist that much more powerful and disheartening.

True, there are some who manage to avoid my influence by and large. In the headiness of my youth, I wasted efforts on chasing them, but they learned the ways to keep me at bay. They don’t run when they see me coming, nor do they welcome me with open arms; instead, they acknowledge that I exist.

And in that simple act, they rob me of my chance to frighten and control them.

Thinking there’s a level of goodness that will banish evil is a fallacy. Like the darkness and light, good and evil will always exist in equal measure. Instead of hiding away from one and embracing the other, the ones who rest beyond my reach understand that I have to exist and will touch their lives at some times.

But they also know that I’ll leave again.

I used to try to torture them into submission, but I’m only pure evil incarnate, I don’t have unlimited energy to break the will of the strong. Just as foolish as it is to hide from me, so, too, is it a waste of my time to try to inspire fear in those who refuse to give in to its temptation. They know what you wish to learn: they’ve figured out how to grow beyond their dread that I may arise at any moment.

As long as you will lie to yourself, I am able to show you the truth.

Have you ever looked at a scar? Deep inside, your body knows these truths, but your thinking mind prefers to conceal them. After the healing is over, your skin bears marks of the journey to overcome the bit of me that found its way into you. Forever etched on your skin is a reminder that I came…but also proof that I could not stay.

Some of the most catastrophic injuries end up stronger when properly healed.

I can hear your thoughts, you know? Yes, even the ones you’re thinking right now. After all that I’ve explained, you’re still thinking to yourself that you can be one of the ones who manage to keep me at bay forever, by the sheer force of your mortal willpower. You’re convinced that acknowledging evil is the sign of weakness—a failing in the heart or mind—all while I’ve tried to explain to you that there’s a vast difference between acknowledging something exists and embracing it openly.

And I can see how you’d think that way, I really can. After all, you probably listened to that damn frog.

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