The Little Moth that Could Not Fly Anymore

Trigger Warning- SOME LANGUAGE and SUSPENSE lie ahead! Blood! Lots of blood! If you are squeamish- you might want to read something else! Inspired by true events. Please, enjoy!

“The Little Moth That Could Not Fly Anymore.”

Part One- “BLOOD!!!!!!!!”

“We’re just sitting here while Bradley is over there dying!” My mother said when she got my text that read,

“HELP! I FELL! BLOOD!!!!!!!!”

“I am on my way,” my dad texted me back. He arrived in nine minutes. Nine minutes that were absolute hell for me. Death! I thought. Tonight was the night I would meet my maker.

I knew I had to get up off the floor, and clean up my mess. Blood spurted and gushed out of my nose which was what I landed on when I passed out. Death. If you do not get up. Death! I thought. I got up from the warm, and comforting pool of blood that my head just wanted to lay in so badly. A comforting sort of wet, red pillow. Damn vertigo! I thought. Damn it to hell! Then a soothing male’s voice spoke softly in my ear saying,

“Get up for you have a purpose. Get up!”

I managed to get up. Blood dripped as I cleaned up my mess myself, but I left blood on the light switch as I grabbed tissues to help stop the blood from dripping from my face. I could not breathe. I have Central Hypoventilation Syndrome. Look it up. My brain, and lungs do not cooperate with each other.

Part Two- Omen- A Prequel.

DEATH!

The little, baby moth flew right all up into my face as I struggled to breathe on my front porch. I shoo’d it away, and it landed on my shoulder. It looked tired. It was out of breath. I felt bad for waving my honey hands at him. I placed him on the railing outside of my apartment. He was cute. I smoked the rest of my cigarette, stood up too fast, and went inside. That’s when it happened. That’s when I fell. Oh, the blood I spilled that night.

Part Three- “The Master of Storytelling.”

“The Master of Storytelling,” was Bradley’s masterpiece. My masterpiece. It was about a storyteller who could never sleep. If he slept- he died!

Part Four- “I Cleaned it Up!”

“I cleaned it up!” I told my dad as I answered the door with a huge wad of tissues plugging up my wounds. Hmm, I thought, that moth has been sitting on that railing for quite some time. I wanted to have another cigarette so bad, but I could not breathe. Scared- I closed the door behind us.

I hoped the little moth was not dead, but I had worse things to deal with. Much, much worse things.

“I’m going to be scarred forever. My poor nose! My face! My perfect face!” I noticed a cute picture of me as a boy magnetized to the fridge. I was cute, but would I ever be again? “I landed on my nose this time! I’m going to die alone in this apartment!” I cried to my dad. He applied pressure to my facial wounds with more tissues as more blood began to spill. “No! Dad! I can’t breathe!” I cried.

Part Five- He Was Cute.

He was cute. He was handsome, thought the little moth that could not catch his breath. He wanted to see Bradley one last time before he died to see if he was real, or if he had been imagining such a beautiful person. Bradley had kind eyes, and a young face for his age. He dressed well, but the little moth could tell that he was not showering every day, and he realized that maybe that was another thing the drove him to Bradley. His smell.

The little moth made it in through the cracked window. He saw Bradley, and died.

Part Six- “Hold it Forward!”

“Hold it forward!” My dad ordered. I wanted to hold my head back, but then I could drown in my own blood, so I held my head forwards, and, magically, the bleeding stopped. I could breathe again, but barely. I felt like I needed supplemental oxygen, but there was none.

Part Seven- My Mother

My mother once heard about how to handle nose bleeds. Hold it forward! The next day- she saved a woman’s life in an airport bathroom. She was holding her head back, and could have soon been a goner!

My mother was worried sick about me the night of my fall, but I am glad she did not show up. I did not want her to see my face. My once beautiful face.

Part Eight- “Oh, No!”

“Oh, no!” My dad screamed once I took the tissues away from my face. I began to Hypoventilate! Death! I thought. Then I saw the little moth dead on the floor.

“Oh! So sad! That little moth- he was cute!” I told my dad. Then there was fire! A burning in my chest! A burning I had not felt in quite some time- all because of my breathing issues. Soon, I truly feared, I would die. Maybe I should quickly write a short story called, “The Man Who Predicted His Own Death.”

“Don’t mind me. Dad, soon I will die. I know it.” I said, and he held my hand as I struggled through to my last breath.

Part Nine- Epilogue

When I entered the pearly gates of Heaven, I thought to myself, why? Why did that poor, innocent moth have to die, too? I needed a heavenly break from my breathing issues, and I guess he did, too.

As Jesus handed me over my new body- he swiped away the old one, and threw it into a fire pit. To hell with it. I thought. This new body. These new brains! Ah! I can breathe again!

Then, a cute, little, and familiar moth landed on my shoulder, and I cried the worst tears that Heaven had ever seen.