Some nights ago i recall a moth entering my room. This night-butterfly is quite common and harmless, so i never try to chase it out, and it is rare to find one inside anyway since i live in the sixth floor.
I regarded it as gone the other day, until i started hearing a noise from the lamp, which i originally considered to have been a sort of electrical fault with the bulb. In the end it became evident that the sound was not comming from the bulb which wasn't flickering anyway. Directly above it, in a small covered part containing the electric cable, something had managed to trap itself. The shadows revealed that it was the moth.
It tried for hours to break out of that prison, but it failed. The small, schizm-like bit that it obviously had pushed itself through, was not allowing it to leave in the same manner, since it appeared to not be able to notice it was the original entry point and did not persist in pushing it so as to escape.
It died the next day, after an escalation of its attempt to leave, during which it scaled the walls of the confined space which would become its tomb.
*
I did think of using that horrible event as a part of the allegory in some story. In the end i regarded it as too sad. I was thinking of how the moth flew up to here, from open space to smaller open space, and finally to a tiny cell it entered- who knows for what reason...
-You can reflect on this if you feel like it. It did seem like a metaphor for more negative things to come, and not for moths but for people.
(note: Decided to RD this only so that it won't attract entirely unrelated posts, moreso given the melancholic tone of the opening post
).
I regarded it as gone the other day, until i started hearing a noise from the lamp, which i originally considered to have been a sort of electrical fault with the bulb. In the end it became evident that the sound was not comming from the bulb which wasn't flickering anyway. Directly above it, in a small covered part containing the electric cable, something had managed to trap itself. The shadows revealed that it was the moth.
It tried for hours to break out of that prison, but it failed. The small, schizm-like bit that it obviously had pushed itself through, was not allowing it to leave in the same manner, since it appeared to not be able to notice it was the original entry point and did not persist in pushing it so as to escape.
It died the next day, after an escalation of its attempt to leave, during which it scaled the walls of the confined space which would become its tomb.
*
I did think of using that horrible event as a part of the allegory in some story. In the end i regarded it as too sad. I was thinking of how the moth flew up to here, from open space to smaller open space, and finally to a tiny cell it entered- who knows for what reason...
-You can reflect on this if you feel like it. It did seem like a metaphor for more negative things to come, and not for moths but for people.
(note: Decided to RD this only so that it won't attract entirely unrelated posts, moreso given the melancholic tone of the opening post
).
Usually i opt for less openly sad images, cause the plots are always on the darker side already.
