Wednesday, August 06, 2003

The Moth and his Fire II

(This is the second part of The Moth and his fire)

The moth stood on the edge of the table.

“Okay, my lovely fire, I have decided to spend as much time as possible with you.”

“I will stay by your side until my life comes to an end. It maybe be days, weeks or eve months. But I am going to be here, watching you.”

During the day, the moth would hide behind the grandfather clock, sleeping.

At night, the month would flew onto the edge of the coffee table.

For more than once, the moth couldn’t resist the fire’s dance of temptation.

He almost threw himself into the fire, because of it.

The desire strong. The heat, and the passion.

But the though of being able to see the same dance again, kept the moth alive.

“If I die, I will never be able to see you again. I rather live a day longer, to be with you.”

The moth crawled in front of the fire, just enough to avoid the sparks of deadly love.

Along with the dancing shadow made by the fire, the moth spread his wings and moved with it’s rhythm.

“Ah… This feels so good.”

The light projected by the fire penetrated though the moth’s body. The warmth wrapped its arms around him.

The moth leaned his head back and exposed his bare body to the fire.

“I’m all yours.”

The moth’s fur started to burn.

“I would love to enjoy this close encounter with you longer, my love. But I can’t die yet.”

The moth withdrew from the fireplace. Flew back onto the coffee table.

He looked at his fur.

“That was close. Too closed. And it hurts… But I like it.”

The moth wrapped himself in his wings.

“Better rest up for tomorrow. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this…”

He turned his body around and spread his wings.

Before the moth made its way to the grandfather clock, something distracted him.

“Another fire?”

A candle, sitting on the dinner table, shines its light at the moth’s direction.

Then another light sparked from another direction.

And another. Follow by another.


“No… Two… Three.. and Four”

The moth took a look at each one of the candles.

“How come I have never notice you guys?”

Each one of the candles released an unique scent.

The moth focused his sight on the first candle.

“This one is different. You are a different…Fire.”

The moth turned his attention at the second candle.

“You too. I’ve never seen any color as pretty as yours.”

The third candle sparked.

“You smell great. Really great. I can’t get enough of your scent!”

The fourth candle is shorter than the others.

“And you are perfect in height. I don’t have to fly up just to get close to you.”

Then it came a sound.


The moth turned his head around, toward the fireplace.

Another moth had just threw itself into the fire.

This drew the moth’s attention back to the fire.

“But I already have my fire.”

The moth returned to the grandfather clock, closed it's eyes.

"I... I kinda like them all..."

The candles went to bed.

The fireplace became quiter.

Soon, the room was filled with silence.

The sun came up from the edge of the world, as the moth fell deeply asleep.

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