Fireflies That Don't Stop Glowing When You Catch 'em

Flames lick the side of the stone fireplace and cast a tangerine glow that dances listlessly on the worn walls of the small living room. Embers float from the burning logs, bobbing this way and that, like fireflies on a warm summer's evening in the garden. I cup my hands to catch them, trying my hardest to imagine that they are, in fact, fireflies, but their glow darkens in my palm, and they quickly turn to ash. I stand on my tiptoes, grasp the windowsill tightly, and press my face against the windowpane. Dusk's purple haze envelops the old climbing tree whose branches are dead and covered with frost while sheets of rainclouds loom overhead. 

"I reckon it's gonna rain," I say loud enough for it to hear. The old basset hound turns towards me and yawns. I'm pretty sure it's deaf. I don't know for sure, though, since it's not my dog. It just follows me around, and I let it 'cause it keeps me company. The dog flops over, stretches its entire body, and goes back to sleep. "So much for having someone to talk to" I grumble and turn my attention back towards the field. He told me to wait here for him. I remember, like he told me just moments ago. He said, 

"Run Chickadee. Run to the shack in the woods where we climbed that big old oak tree in the summer. Don't stop till you get there. Alright?" I nodded my head because there was nothing else I could do but nod my head and look into his big blue eyes. "I'll be right behind you," he said, "I'll be there before the rain comes, and we'll wait there together till Spring." He smiled, and I gave him a great big hug. I remember him smelling of dirt and grass. He was drenched with sweat, but I didn't care. I didn't care one bit. "Then we'll go wherever you want Chickadee. Wherever you want," He kissed my head hard, then whispered, "Go on now, I'll be right behind you." I repeat those words now under my breath, 

"We'll go wherever you want Chickadee," and imagine far off places with meadows covered in yellow marigolds and bright blue skies and fireflies that don't stop glowing when you catch 'em. I look back at the hound, "He'll be here any day now. You'll love him. He's the best big brother you could ever want, and you can come with us too." It's long face perks up and cocks to one side like it's really listening. "I think I'll call you Dog if that's alright with you." The hound stares back at me, blankly. "Well, that settles it. You ought to have a proper name, so I'll call you Dog till Bubba gets here. Then we'll decide on your name together. I call him Bubba because" I pause to think, "Now that I think of it Dog, I really don't know why I call him Bubba. I just do. But he calls me Chickadee 'cause he swears I have the prettiest singing voice in the whole world. Isn't that something?" I smile and look back out the window. "Now, you know all of our names, Dog. Now you know." The sun slips below the horizon, and for a moment, the field shines brilliantly, but only for a moment, then everything grows dark. "I don't like the dark Dog. I never have. The loud men only came to me and Bubba's house when it was dark, and they'd bang and bang on the door till Bubba answered. You wouldn't like them, Dog. The loud men smell 'cause they don't bathe, and they're loud 'cause they got no manners." The wind howls loudly outside, and Dog whines. "It's alright." I sit next to Dog and rub her belly. "After Bubba and I ran away, we had no money, so Bubba told me that he had to go with the loud men. He had to go Dog, so we could start a new life in a place where bad men don't bang on doors." Raindrops patter against the window. Slowly at first, but with every second, it falls harder and more quickly than before. "Look, Dog! Look! It's raining!" I run from the hearth to the window and press my nose against the glass. "That means Bubba is coming Dog!" I dance around, flinging my arms this way and that. Dog leaps up and begins to bark. "That's right, Dog, Bubba is 'comin!" Dog and I dance to the sound of the rain falling onto the cool, sweet earth. We dance until we are both too tired to dance anymore. Dog plops down by the fire, and I cozy up next to her. I'm tired, but I can't help smiling. "Bubba won't have to do any more bad things for those men now Dog. We can go to church on Sundays, and I can wear a white dress with lace and black leather shoes just like I've always wanted." I smile so hard it hurts. "The night Bubba told me to run away, he said to me that this would be the last bad thing he'd ever do in his life. He started to cry Dog, and I felt so bad for him. I wiped away his tears and kissed each cheek. I asked him what he had to do, and he said it was something terrible. Something little girls like me should never have to think about." I frown and look into the old hound's eyes. "He never did tell me what he had to do, but that night I swear I heard..." I lean in close to Dog's ear so only she can hear, "I swear I heard a gunshot Dog. It was real loud, and all the nightingales stopped singing. And I heard the thuddin' of a shovel against dirt and rocks. I can't bear to think of it, Dog." I bury my head deep into her fur. "After the thuddin' stopped, that's when he came up to my room smellin' like dirt and grass and told me to come here. But now that it's rainin', he can come to be with you and me, and he'll never have to do those things again. Me and Bubba have a secret knock Dog, I'll show ya" I knock hard on the floor, wait a couple of seconds, and then knock two more times right after each other. "If you hear that Dog, you know Bubbas come, and we can open the door, but not for anyone else." We lay there for hours listening to the crackle of the logs and the poppin' of embers. It's pouring now. Puddles begin to soak the floor where the rain seeps in from the patched roof. Suddenly, Dog sits up and begins to whine. "It's alright Dog, it's just the rain." But she continues to whine and then I hear it too. There are the faint sounds of footsteps outside drowned out by the sound of pouring rain. "Shhhhhhh," I whisper, trying to comfort Dog "It's Bubba" The sound of footsteps grow closer, and the door rattles. "Someone's trying to get in Dog," I whisper. Then, they knock. Three loud knocks. My heart quickens. And they knock again, this time it's louder than before. "That's not Bubba," I whisper to Dog, choking back tears. "Bubba doesn't knock like that." Dog growls, and the hairs on her back stand up like bristles. Then someone starts to kick the door till some of the hinges come loose. I grab Dog by the back of her neck and whisper, "Run." We race to the bedroom, and a group of men yells,

"Where's your brother Chickadee" they stumble towards the fire and laugh. I hoist Dog out the window and follow behind her. We run in the dark, soaked with rain and wet earth.

"Don't worry, Dog, Bubba will find us." The rain pelts down harder. "He'll find us, and we'll live in the meadow covered in yellow marigolds and bright blue skies and fireflies that don't stop glowing when you catch 'em."