Irrational

It really was a stupid thing to be afraid of. I mean, what harm could a moth possibly cause? A moth, for Christ sake. All they do is piss you off during the summer at night when you got the windows open and the lights on. The little bastards just flutter around the light bulb, burning them selves then retreating, but still come back again seconds later. I think it would be fair to say that they certainly aren’t the most intelligent of all of Gods creatures.

But I know their stupid and harmless. So why am I afraid of them? It makes no sense. It’s kinda like knowing that fire will burn your skin, yet you touch the flame of the candle regardless. It’s just dumb. I think maybe it’s the way the little bastards lay dormant on the wall, and you assume that it’s just a small brown smudge, so when you go to rub it off the little shit bursts into life, like Frankenstein’s monster or something, then starts buzzing around your face trying to get up your nose.

I think that’s what it is. When I was a kid I had a recurring nightmare that a moth would fly up my nose while I slept and lay eggs in my brain. Then after I awoke, the eggs would hatch and thousands of moths would secrete from every orifice in my head. Sounds stupid now, but when your 5 years old you have a nasty habit of believing your own dreams. My mother thought me sleeping with the light on at night would prevent these nightmares. Ironically, the light only attracted the moths.

My mom was the only family I ever had. Dad died before I was born and I had no brothers or sisters. It was just me and mommy. It may seem odd that a 16 year old guy would still call his mother that, but you have to understand that she has always been there for me, always given me oracle-like advice about life, and has always been a shoulder to cry on…Nobody will love you like your mother.

Mom’s shoulder was where I spent most of my time after the accident. You see, when I was 12, me and my friend, Buck, were biking through the woods, by the creek, near where I live. I remember we were biking over the north bank of the creek, on top of the cliffs. That’s when my bike hit something, and I plummeted down towards the beach of the creek below. I fell onto a rock, bashed my head and fractured my spine, then fell unconscious. It was only when I woke up in hospital that I realised that I couldn’t move my legs. And I never would again.

Well how the fuck would you feel? Your 12 years old, you have your whole life ahead of you and suddenly you lose your ability to walk? You will only be able to move via a wheelchair until the day you die. It’s been 4 years since that day and it hurts just as much now as it did then. But at least I have mommy to look after me. As I lay here in my bed, mommy will bring me my food, change my clothes, give me a sponge bath and read a story to me when I’m feeling bored. She’s so good to me.

Actually come to think of it, I haven’t seen mommy since this morning. I remember her bringing me up my cereal and placing it in front of me on a tray. As I started eating, she stood over me smiling, as she normally did. But this time it was a different kind of smile. It was almost like how she used to smile at me before she left for work (back when she had a job, but had to quit so she could care for me) she kissed me on the forehead then turned around and left the room. It’s strange, but I swear I saw her crying as she turned around. I didn’t say anything in case I was wrong. But I’m almost certain that I saw tears in her eyes.

I wonder why she was crying. Did I do something wrong? No. She wasn’t crying. Just my imagination, I guess.

It’s getting cold now. The sun has handed over his duties to the moon, as night is looming closer. The window is still open and the draft is chilling my toes. I pull the quilt over my feet, which gradually warm them up again. But the air of the night will only grow colder. The light in the corner illuminates the room, and still I gaze at that open window. Knowing what soon will happen if it isn’t closed. Where is mommy? She hasn’t left me by myself for this long in since the accident. But just as I inhaled to yell her name, what I dreaded the most appeared.

I saw a moth standing there on the window, looking at me. I bit my lip. I didn’t want to scream, for some reason I thought it would hear me and attack. I was breathing heavily and frequently. I could feel myself hyperventilating; this was not good for me. The doctor said too much stress might resolve in massive heart failure or something like that. I said a silent prayer that mommy would come back and close the window.

But my prayer was only answered with the grim vision of more moths, all standing against the outside of the window all staring at me, as if I was under their judgement. There must have been 30 of them. My throat went dry and I screamed as I saw them entering my room through the window. As they approached, I saw that there was more than just 30. 50, maybe 60 of the little bastards were all bombarding into my cosy bedroom. I screamed for mommy once more, but all I heard in response was the buzzing of the moth’s wings as they flew around my bed, circling me, like a shark would a wounded seal.

I was now crying again, begging for mommy to save me, begging for someone to hear my cries. I could feel my heart beating fast. Too fast. If this didn’t end soon it may never beat again. I realised that mommy wasn’t coming back to save me. Even though I was a cripple, I had to get myself out of this alone.

I pushed myself out of bed with my arms and landed on the floor, face first. I could hear the tiny creatures above me circling around the room, as if I had gone off their radar for a moment. I crawled with all my might over to the door. I heard moths flying around my head, and felt some of them as they crawled along my skin. I cried, I screamed, I wailed with woe, but as soon as I reached that door this living nightmare would come to an end.

I got to the door finally. I reached up and grabbed the doorknob and turned it to one side. It was locked. Why was my door locked? My door was never locked. Mommy must of locked my door before she left the house. In that moment, I was destroyed. I was locked in a room with the my worst fear and had been abandoned by the only person who I loved. I leaned up against the door and sobbed. Sobbed, like the pathetic little child that I was. But as my tears fell from my eyes, more moths would swoop down to investigate the liquid pouring from me. I tried to swat them away, but it was no use. I couldn’t bring myself to make contact with them. The very thought of touching one almost made me vomit. So I just sat there and sobbed. Then cried. Cried that soon my heart would give in to the torture around me and maybe then the torture would end.

I sat and observed the moths. Not the ones crawling on me, but the ones around the room. There must have been at least 200 of the little shits in my room now. It was like a plague sent from God to punish a helpless little cripple for a sin he hadn’t committed. For that is what the moths are. Demons. They are the punished, the children of Gods rage, who have been cursed for all eternity to be infatuated with the light, only to be burnt. But their desire is too strong to let the light go, so they return again and again, not even realising the futility of their lives.

Mommy is never going to open this door and save me. I realise that now. I don’t know what I did to upset her. I always tried to be a good son and do right by her. But I guess she got fed up with caring for a helpless pathetic cripple like me.
My heart is on its last beats. I feel that very clearly. Soon my life will end. I don’t mind much. I just wished I could die in darkness, without being able to see these fucking moths. These abominations of the earth that crawl all over my body as if they were feeding from it.

I close my eyes.

My mind is now a thousand moths, trapped in a lampshade. As I lay here and my breath slowly begins the fade, I listen to their wings banging and burning, their legs twitching and scratching and I pray for what will never be. I lay awake, shaking and starving, on through this endless night. Praying to be forgiven, praying to be brave…praying for someone to turn off the light.