Now hold on, I know
what a lot of you (at least those of you who know me for reals) are thinking “mottephobia?
Bit lucky for that to be the word
this week.” Well, have a gold star, because it isn’t lucky at all, but
rather because in the past week, I’ve rediscovered my absolute loathing of all
moth kind. So, fuck the police, today
I’m not going to do a random word, but instead here’s a story about my absolute
fear of moths.
Pastel
shades of lilac punctuated the orange sky that night. It was lovely, and with a
warm summery breeze blowing through the open window, I took my chance and
swooped in. It was bright in this new place, really bright. A thing like the
sun hung from the centre of the square place I’d just become a new resident of.
There were places to hide everywhere too, open places, dark places,
under-the-bed places, and it sure was great. I could stay here a while.
I felt
the air change as a large door opened across the room, it must have been a part
of this bigger place I was in, and in came a human. A man-human, with hair and
shorts and stuff that smelled like sweetness. He seemed friendly, and I bet he
wouldn’t have minded, but I think I was too quick to show up.
He swung
an arm, and the gust blew me round. I was dizzy. I didn’t like it in here
anymore, it was weird and the light was really big, and I wanted it, so I flew
upwards, but something swept me away, like a tentacle of the things that hung
up one of the dark, open places. I fluttered back up toward the sun-thing and I
bounced away, it repelled me. I tried again to no effect. By now, I could feel
the human on the other side of the room. He was shrieking and throwing big
clumps of things at me, and every time one got close, the air tore me away. But
I no longer cared, I kept smashing myself against the sun-thing. It could’ve
been for days.
The last
thing I remember was a big soft, heavy thing catching and pulling me down. I
couldn’t move, my wings shattered and I’m too sleepy to think.
***
I walked
into the room, sat on my bed and opened my laptop. Looking outside, the sky was
pretty and all, but having spent the day getting sunned, I thought a little
inside time was more than apt.
A dark
shadow flew past my face and I flinched, shoulders up. Not another one.
I swung
my hand aimlessly, trying to hit it, but the stupid thing flew out of the way. The
moth darted toward the light, and bounced. The dread boiled up inside, and I
considered just leaving the room entirely. I didn’t need my laptop, right?
But no,
I had to do something about the moth,
so I chucked a bunched pair of underwear at it, no effect. I kept throwing
pieces of clothing, but the harder I tried, the more frantically the moth
bashed against my light. Time seemed to move slower, and the longer it took to
catch the little bastard, the more scared I felt. I know they’re harmless, but
they’re erratic, they’re annoying, they’re precious. When you kill one, they
seem to turn into a grey smear of dust, which is just nauseating.
As a
last ditch attempt, I took a used bedsheet and threw the entire thing at the
fluttering menace, which caught it and went down. I shook what was left of the
moth away and chucked the sheet in the wash. Breathing slowly, I sat down and
cold fingers sped down my back. I shook my head and lay back, staring up at the
dusty ceiling.
“I
should shut the window.”
