View RSS Feed

Selected ponderings from my life

More of my fiction writing

Rate this Entry
NOTE: I would love your comments on my fiction writing. Anything will do.


The naked light bulb had a strong pull. He knew he had to fly towards it. And then circle it. Around and around, until he got dizzy and disoriented. And then he would land somewhere and just sit there feeling the excitement that the flight had caused.
He also knew that as soon as his head was clear again, he would be back up there doing the dance with the other moths. He knew that the bizarre ritual had no meaning. But it did not really worry him. This was what he did while he was awake and it was dark outside.

He had learnt not to get too close, as the heat from the bulb would easily damage his brittle wings. He also had to watch out for nightly predators, who were drawn to the same light, as they knew that it was a place to find easy prey. But he had become good at keeping an eye out for them. And strangely enough, he had never been even close to become some ones night snack. Every night some of the others were caught. But the moth felt that he was in control.

He had never wanted to be anything but a moth. His life was complete. He had food and drink all around him. And there was the dance.

The moth’s head had cleared and he flew back up to the light. Around and around. But something started to change. The brightness of the light started to fade. The darkness around him changed. First the blackness was replaced with a dark grey shade that did not have the power to blanket out all the contours around. Then there was more light and colours started to emerge.

He knew what this meant. The morning was close. Soon the big bright light would rise from behind the shed. The really big and hot light. The one that was so bright that he could not stand it.

He started to make his way in to some of the shadows that were still there for him. He needed to find a place where he could sleep away the time of the big hot light. And then it would once more be time.

He landed inside the small gap between the roof and the wall of the shed. This was a good place. He would be safe here. And he could sleep away the light.

Steven woke up from the sun shining on his face. This would be a hot day. He stretched and looked around. All was the way he had left it last night. His clothes were on the chair by the bed, his shoes by the door and his wallet on the night table. But that was the way he expected it to be. It always was. Nothing changed while he was asleep. And why should it? The problem was not with the room or what was in it. The problem was in his head.

He had once again had the same dream. The dream he had every night. The dream he had dreamt as long as he could remember. It had not worried him before. He liked the dream. It was calming. But lately he had started to wonder if all was Ok with him. It had got to a stage where he sometimes did not want to have dreams. But it was never in his control. Dreams never are.

But, he thought, no time to worry about it now, he had a busy day planned. He was looking to buy a new house and he had already found some suitable ones in the papers, so today he was to visit them all to have a look.

After a shower, a breakfast and a look in toady’s paper, to see if there were any new prospective houses, he went to his car and set to do his task as planned.

Steve’s day went fast. He had time to look at seven houses before coming back home just before the sun started to settle at the horizon. There had been some possible ones, one in particular, that had a kidney shaped swimming pool and one of those driveways with two entries that he had always wanted. He would consider the options tomorrow.

He had picked up all the local Real Estate Magazines and decided to lie on the bed and study them. But his mind was not on the houses. It was on the dream. He knew, that as soon as he closed his eyes and he fell asleep, he would once again dream that he was a moth. A moth that spent every night flying around a dirty 45-Watt light bulb outside an old shed. The dream did not scare him. It was boring. But also settling. He had never had a nightmare in his whole life. He functioned well, and he was successful. In fact so successful, that at 31 years old, he had been able to retire and do what he wanted to.

Steven’s eyes started to close and he knew he was falling asleep.

The moth woke up by the change in the temperature that happens when the sun settles behind the horizon. It was not dark enough outside yet, so he decided to stay where he was for a little bit longer.

He had once again had the same dream. As long as he could remember he had been dreaming that he was this creature that did spend its time awake under the heat of the big light. The dream fascinated him. But he did not understand it. There were so many strange things in the dream. But he always enjoyed the dream.

But now the influence of the big light had disappeared and he had more important things to do. There was some flying to do. He moved out from his small space and he could see the light from the light bulb. And there was already others there flying around and around. No time to waste…

Submit "More of my fiction writing" to Digg Submit "More of my fiction writing" to Submit "More of my fiction writing" to StumbleUpon Submit "More of my fiction writing" to Google Submit "More of my fiction writing" to reddit Submit "More of my fiction writing" to Facebook