The moth

Tom sat nervously in front of the head officer’s workroom. He read the seedy letters on the door over and over again like a sacral mantra, Stewart Alma’s office, chief of police. This was his fifth time visiting the police this week as he feared for his life as well as the righteousness of our legal system. So he sat in the same dirty brown leather chair, letting his whole body covered in cold sweat slowly sink into the worn out dirty furniture. Above his head were yellow lights, with flies buzzing around , hitting the lightbulb in agony from time to time. I’m loosing it - thought Tom - looking at his twitching hands from above. Then he shook his head no twice as in an attempt to clear his head. This was a crime, a murder, torture committed in cold blood i can’t let this go i can’t let this go i can’t let this go he repeated as tears ran down his face from frustration. He spent countless  days sitting in this chair, barely eating or sleeping, because that’s how important this was to Tom. Then slowly the chief’s door creaked as it started to open. Tom jumped out of his chair shoving his foot in the little gap. 

-Mr. Horváth for the love of god get a hold of yourself- shouted Stewart Alma directly to the foot forcing it’s way into his office.

-I refuse to leave until you take up my case! Yes I, Tom Horváth refuse to leave! You know why?!- now he turned his head, keeping his foot still holding the office’s door open, and looked at the other people in the waiting room. - Because I have the evidence that a serial killer, a psycho is on the loose, probably enjoying his afternoon tea, while we sit here. Actually while I sit here. I’ve come here everyday for the last three weaks begging to be listened to!- spit was flying out of his mouth as he said these words, almost snarling, grinding his teeth constantly. The other people, mostly sleeping, already knowing the case with Mr. Horváth didn’t bet an eye, making Tom even more furious. LOOK! he shouted in victory with his body twisted to the maximum- THE CRIME SCENE PHOTOS! - he was waving two laminated pictures of a moth without it’s wings. At this point the rag-tag audience burst out laughing, resulting Mr. Alma to drag him into his office and shove him in the chair infront of his desk. 

-Look, this can’t continue, the media is going to want in on this if you don’t stop! This is madness Mr. Horváth! - said the chief. 

-I know and I’m awfully sorry about the commotion, but this is important… please-begged Tom Mr. Alma for the hundredth time this week. 

- Mr. Horváth these are crime scene photos of a dead moth. A moth for crying out loud! How could we possibly- his voice lowered at this point, starting to give up- just go home please, you must have somewhere to be. He was right. Tom didn’t show up for work today, just as he didn’t in the past few weeks. He was fired two days ago but he didn’t know it, he didn’t care either. All he did was repeat the same thing everyday in Alma’s office- chief just look at the evidence- said Tom pointing at the pictures he was waving around just minutes ago- this is a moth. A moth that was murdered and mutilated. He was probably beaten to death and his wings were ripped out. How could you sleep peacefully knowing that a person like this is walking amongst us? And I know who did it, that’s why I’d like to testify. 

- Alright, I’m listening- said Alma, accepting his fate, knowing there’s no other way he can get rid of Tom. 

- My son did it- said Tom, meaningfully letting his head hang down - my son- he repeated in a quieter tone. The chief scribbled down a few words in his notebook, ripped out the page and gave it to Tom. -Now, you can only open this once you’re home. Got it? Mr. Horváth shook his head in agreement, stood up and slowly slid the piece of paper in his back pocket. He said good day and left the police station. He was not relieved yet, however he felt a sense of calmness as he finally confessed his dark secret. He headed for the main street, playfully placing his legs one after the other on the cobblestones. To him this was an almost perfect day. Shortly he passed the dry cleaner, where he was supposed to be picking up his suit from five hours ago. He even looked at his reflection in victory as his honesty felt to him as if the dead moth’s wings were given to him. Yes he could almost see them in the shop window. He kept walking drunk with justice thinking this calls for cake. He went into Szamos, they ordered their cake for today from this famous bakery, his fiance’s sister  was supposed to pick it up, but given the situation she didn’t. Tom ordered a slice of his favourite marzipan cake, ate it in under a minute, then left the shop. On his way home, he kept running into his friends and her fiance’s family which was extremely weird as they live three hours from here. But he didn’t think much of it. He took a sharp left twice and climbed the hill up to his tiny home on József Attila street. As he got closer he saw an angry, rather frustrated woman on his porch. Silly Erika- he thought - it must be her, oh how happy she will be to know the hardest part is over. However Erika was everything but happy. Her mascara made her  tears black which covered her white dress and her face. Her cheeks were red and swollen. 

Erika- shouted Tom - what happened? Please tell me the moth killer didn’t get to you! 

Oh fuck you Tom!- said the girl to our concerned protagonist- Fuck you and your fucking moth! You’re fucking crazy! Today was supposed to be our perfect day! Today was our wedding you dick!- bellowed the bride - Even after you disappeared for three weeks I still would have married you!- her voice cracked as she let her silent tears come over her. Mr. Horváth stood there trying to process the words of her bride, her soon to be wife whom he totally and utterly forgot about, and who was in the middle of leaving him. Erika got up, her beautiful dress ruined, and left. There was nothing more to say. Tom didn’t understand, for him these last few weeks felt like hours with his state of mind. He lost all contact with the outside world as well as with his feelings. To him only fear and anger remained and as his feelings towards  Erika did not fall into either of those categories he simply didn’t care for them. Erika was also not the mother of his child, Matthew was from his first marriage. Tom stood confused for a few minutes on the porch as he tried but couldn’t care, apathy took a hold of him when it came to his life before the crime. Now his life was the crime, his days were the crime overwriting any plans made beforehand. So he stood on his porch in his regular clothes, newly single and with a note in his back pocket on his wedding day. He himself hasn’t been home the last weeks, smells of rotten food and stale water hit his face as he entered to read his important note, which he wanted to wait for as long as he possibly could, saving himself the ecstatic moment of knowing the secret that it held. He entered the house. Took his shoes off and headed for the scene of the crime, the room of two year old Matthew, to see if the moth’s carcass was still there. However to his surprise there was no moth on the carpet, only his son's rotting body. His mom never picked him up, thinking the boys were playing a cheeky prank on her with the whole bug crime thing. Tom fell to his knees, yet again he didn’t understand. He picked up his son's lifeless little body looking around quietly saying - This can’t be, no this can’t be, where… where is the moth- he said angrily - there is no moth even though it was right here. He dropped the child back down then picked him up and dropped him again, desperately searching for the bug everywhere. He couldn’t take the smell anymore so he went out to the back yard, loosened his tie and sat down on the grass pulling out the note from his back pocket. He slowly unfolded the little piece of paper which said “patient 103”. Tom, confused , looked up at the sky letting the Sun shine directly to his eyes as he closed them. He was too tired to move. He felt two strong arms lifting him up and carrying him into a bed that was so soft yet smelled of rotting flesh. Hours passed until he opened his eyes again. He was in a hospital gown clenching his right fist still with the note in it. He slowly got up, and toddled to the room’s sink. He heard people coming down the hallway- yes, of course patient 103, I have the perfect day planned for him- said the nurse to her colleague getting closer to the room. Mr. Horváth looked to see exactly  where the sound was coming from, expecting someone to come in soon, catching a glimpse of his reflection on the glass while doing so. His arms turned into legs covered with dustlike scales. He laughed, laughed hysterically til his eyes turned into big black dots, his head quickly growing out two feathery antennae. But the wings never came in, they never grew. The door slowly creaked as it was being opened, Tom tried to shut it but a foot made its way in already keeping it open. Mr. Horváth for the love of god get a hold of yourself- shouted a voice to which Tom already knew what to answer - I refuse to leave until you take up my case!- he shouted with an antsy smile on his face.