Firefly

story by: Siren Song
Written on Mar 04, 2017

  Nose pressed to the cold glass, I hold my breath so that I don’t fog up the window as we fly down the highway. It’s dark and we’re moving fast, so I can’t see much anyways, but still I stare with rapt attention at the blackness outside the car. I’m waiting for it to reappear, that glimmer of light that flits past my window periodically, too quick for me to identify. Maybe if I sit very still in my seat and pay close attention, I’ll do better this time than catching it in the corner of my eye before it’s swallowed by the dark road behind us. I tell myself that it may be a firefly, though I hope it’s a fairy or a will-o-the-wisp. My mind begins to drift and I ponder how the tiny creatures would look if I could slow them down, when all at once I see another cluster of the tiny red orbs zip by and simultaneously feel a sharp pain on my outstretched neck. I cry out in surprise as my hand flies to my neck, cool fingertips soothing the burning spots on my skin. "I’m sorry, baby," comes my mother’s voice from the front seat. "Did I getcha with my ashes?" Silly to think of fairies, I think to myself as I turn away from the window, hand still pressed to my neck. 

 

Tags: sad, metaphor, wishful,

 

 

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