I wrote this for the simple fact that there is not enough Mothman love out there.
This idea popped into my head during a class, so I just wrote it all out. Hope you guys like it!
"Mama, Mama!" he cries joyfully, running through the front door.
She scolds him for yelling inside the house. He knows better. A hasty apology spills off his tongue, though he puts no real thought behind it. Not when he has something so important to show her, carefully trapped inside the palms of his two, small hands.
"Now, what is it, darling?"
She kneels down to meet his eye level, making him feel more significant. As though he, too, is an adult.
The small boy's chest puffs out in pride. "I found the most beautifulest butterfly, and I captured it just for you."
A sweet smile graces the older woman's slowly aging face. "For me? That's so sweet. Where is it?"
He grins, raising up his two pudgy hands, clamped together, for his mother to see. "I captured it just for you," he repeats with satisfaction.
His small fingers slowly uncurl to reveal his prize. He stares down at the living, breathing bug in his hands, his eyes wide as he marvels at the beauty of it. Both the wings are so fragile and beautiful. Carefully, oh so carefully, he brings his hands even higher up for his mother to get a better look. He looks to her for her approval which he so constantly craves, but when he looks to find the same happiness held in his own eyes he finds only confusion and hesitation.
Her eyes fall on his face, and she tries her best to return his smile. "Yes darling?"
He feels his lip begin to quiver. "Why don't you like my butterfly?"
She sees the hurt in his eyes and places a hand gently on her son's small cheek. "Darling, this isn't a butterfly. It's a moth."
"You see, Byron, butterflies are beautiful insects. They're delicate, colorful, graceful, and symmetrical. They are one of God's many gifts to man. Moths, however, feed on our clothing and haunt the night air. They're ugly creatures. It's best if you just put that thing back outside and let it be."
She stands, making him feel like a small, stupid child once more, and then returns to the chores she had previously abandoned. He stands for a long while, alone, still holding the "ugly" creature.
Biting his lip, he goes outside and sits down on the front porch. He uncurls his fingers yet again, gazing down at the small insect. "Don't worry," he speaks gently to the small being. "Mama doesn't know what she's saying. I think you're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, so don't listen to her."
The tiny moth raises its head and, for a moment, the small boy swears that it's staring right back at him. It's as though it understood the words that he had spoken. Then, without warning, the moth spreads its wings and it takes off through the air, back to wherever it came from. Byron watches it fly away, and soon the grin that had slipped away before slowly returns to his childlike face.
"Someday. No one will ever think of you as an ugly creature. I'll make them see… Someday…"