Part 1


All their dull colours and little antennas.

“Pale white body against the glass wings pressed towards the light.

I am a pulse I cannot stop beating, beating so drawn to the alien thing.

There is no time to care

The light beckons and I am there.

Call me ephemeral.

Soon the crickets will sing their cacophony and the grass will have my dry wings.”

I was six years old when I had first encountered the portal.

My family and I had previously lived in a small two story, three bedroom home on the outskirts of town. It was a nice, quaint little house, and we had nice, cheerful neighbours to accompany it. It was a clean, red brick square house, with 3 square windows and a long wooden door which were perfectly positioned to follow a square pattern.

I had one sister at the time, and life for my parents was simple and comfortable. They both had steady employment and there was a primary school literally 3 minutes away from my housing estate. Unfortunately, and I use that word loosely, my mother had gotten an unexpected pregnancy, and my parents were pretty much forced into finding a larger home for our growing family. This had all happened around the time of September 1999, if I recall correctly.

“You’re going to have a new baby sister or brother!” She exclaimed to me and Rebecca, my sister, in a cheerful, child friendly voice. Both of us back then had been ecstatic and over the moon about the prospect of a new sibling, but for my father, all he saw was another hungry mouth to feed and another expense to a comfortably financial family. You see, my father is a very balanced man, and he doesn’t like it when things upset his precious routine. For a while I thought he might have OCD, but I think he just likes having things done his own way.

House-hunting began in October and my parents had narrowed down their choice to three houses. Two of these houses were nearby our old one, so not only was the primary school still in walking distance now, but we were now also in closer walking distance of the town. The other house would have only really benefitted my father’s commute to work every morning by a few minutes, and was out from both any schools and from the town. This house sat nicely in a small lane of similar houses that were part of around 30 housing estates or so, located in a giant suburban concrete jungle, built to support the ever-growing out of control population of my growing town.

No community, no comfort and a lack of resources crossed this place off the list pretty much immediately. In my early childhood, and then again when I became an adult, I was glad that he hadn’t picked that house, because as nice as it was, I much preferred the quiet of the house I live in now. Through my teen years, this particularly large area had become the regular hang out spot for me and a few friends, and it was only then had I hoped he chosen the first rejected house instead.

Anyway, their choice was narrowed down to two, another two story house and a dormer bungalow. Both houses had an odd design, one being like a cardboard box with a triangle roof on top, and the other being shaped like a “L”. The L shaped two story house was a sufficient size, but the lighting in the house was terrible and it appeared to have a dark, dim atmosphere about it. The other house, on the other hand, was brightly lit, very cosy and had pretty much everything we needed.

This house was also much cheaper, and all in all, was a much better deal.

So in November that year, my family and I had packed everything up, sold the house and moved into our new cosy dormer bungalow. I have lived here for nearly 14 years now, and our neighbourhood is a beautiful spot to reside in. There are clear lakes nearby and plenty of walkways, grass and trees. It almost feels like you’re living in the middle of a park, rather than a housing estate.

The previous owner of the house was named Roger McCarthy. He had died of a stroke a few months before we moved in. He was considered a nice, friendly man by all of our new neighbours, albeit a little strange, but he was a lonely old man. He had no family left so when he died the house went to his cousin, who put it back on the market. The neighbours say the only time he really left his house in the later years of his life was to walk his dog, or go down to the shops.

It was June 2000 when my mother had child number three. I was six years old and Rebecca was eight. We had all settled nicely into our new home and a happy, healthy new baby had really brightened up the environment in our household. Mother had left her job at the bank so money was a little tighter than expected. Still though, this didn’t dampen the spirits of my parents, whose marriage had been flourishing at its happiest in the 11 years that they had been together.

We could also pin it on the fact that the weather that summer was absolutely gorgeous. I remember that June in the year 2000, when we had searing hot temperatures and beautiful sunshine, with temperatures reaching the low to mid thirties in the middle of the day. Mom and Dad took as much advantage as they could of this rare Irish weather and took us to the beach, park, racetrack and many other recreational places regularly throughout June and July. I will never forget those Summer days as an innocent child.

For similar reasons, I shall also never forget those nights.

I was six years old when I had first encountered the portal. The first time I had, I was so frightened, that I barely ate, talked or interacted with anything for around 2 days afterwards. I couldn’t even concentrate on anything and my happy, carefree inner child had experienced pure fear at its core for the very first time.

I remember because it was a heavy, humid night after temperatures had reached 35 Degrees Celsius that day. It was during these days that the heat at night would reach the low twenties and sleeping became very restless and uncomfortable. I remember it was around 10 o’clock at night, and even then the sun was only starting to set. I remember reaching up to the handle of the window with my tiny hands and pushing it open to let out the concentrated heat from the room, replacing it with a slightly cooler, somewhat refreshing sort of air, which rushed into the room at a rapid pace. It would have had to do, I guessed.

I hopped back into bed and kept my face flat down into the cold side of the pillow. I was afraid of the dark when I was younger, so I kept the light on in the room. That’s when my instincts detected flickering from above. I burst into a thought of confusion and tried to keep my head buried within the steadily heating pillow. However, the flickering continued, so I lifted my smothered head from my comfortable slumber and looked up at the light.

Moths. Lots of them.

They were flying around everywhere. At least 6 of them, if I remember correctly. I looked up at them, not in panic, but in total fascination. Now at this age, the only difference I really knew between moths and butterflies was that moths flew around the lights frantically, like little dumb, spellbound angels. The flickering they were unintentionally causing was admittedly annoying, but turning off the light meant they would leave, and I didn’t want that. I liked these little winged creatures. Plus there was the whole “the bogeyman will eat me” kind of fear of the dark that I didn’t want to engross myself into.

As I gazed upon them, a little faded yellow moth came down and hovered in front of my face. I tried to brush him away, but he wouldn’t budge a single bit. Becoming frustrated at his resistance, I readied the muscles in both my arms and clapped as fast and accurately as I could. My poor little annoying, yellow friend seemed to pause in pain in the air, before slowly collapsing onto the bed in a messy heap.

The flickering stopped.

His five friends hovered in front of the lights and I could feel them looking at me.

They hovered and stared at me for what felt like an unknown amount of long gruelling minutes.

One by one, as quickly as they had come in, they all left again.

To this day, I have never seen animal instinct as clever as I had that night. What I had once admired as cute little winged beauties suddenly seemed so threatening and instinctively aware. Still scared, I ran into my parent’s bedroom and told them exactly what had happened. Looking back at that moment, it’s a good thing that I didn’t run in on them doing the dirty deed.

They both reassured me that everything was fine and that I needn’t worry. When I asked them if I could jump into their bed, they told me that a cramped bed would not be a good idea during this weather. I remember nodding sheepishly in agreement, but still feeling insecure going back into my bedroom.

I awoke that night with the light turned off. That’s the usual anyway; it’s dad’s routine to come in and turn off my light when I fall asleep. However, this was different. There was a prevailing, dominating light coming through the open window of my room, which made outside look like the dawn of the morning, from my back garden. I checked the alarm clock beside my bed. 3:28 am, it displayed in its red light. It was way too early to be that bright, I had thought to myself. I arose from the bed, picked up the small stool in the corner of my room and placed it in front of the window. I stood upon it, and laid eyes on a blinding light, shining up directly towards my room.

I exited my room and ran straight into my parent’s bedroom for the second time that night.

“Mom! Dad!” I called out in a loud whisper.

No response.

“Mom! Dad!” I called out once again now in a booming voice.

I approached the bed and shook both their legs individually with all my force. Nothing. Their sleeping bodies couldn’t help me now. I ran downstairs, turning on all the lights along the way as fast as I could. As soon as light-bulbs illuminated my path to the mysterious bright light, I tip-toed up the hall way and creaked open the kitchen door.

It was then that I instantly noticed that this light was in fact shining straight up towards my room. From here in the kitchen, my eyesight could finally get the look at it that I required. It was a long slit, around the same height as me, and seemed to come from absolutely nothing or nowhere. I slid open my back door, and stepped out into the plain, grassy garden. It was a good thing the grass was dry, or else my feet would have become very uncomfortable in that Tigger onesie.

I followed the ruby tiled path my father had laid out in the garden to the slit, which sat floating and comfortable in the right hand side of the garden. As I did so, I heard the sound of what can only be described as the engine of a remote control helicopter. I gazed into the sky, and in the darkness, I saw what looked like static in space. I slowly followed my eyes from the stars, to the slit of light and as my vision became brighter, I recognised the static to be my familiar new friends once more.


I followed them into the slit, as they flew aimlessly into it, only to seemingly disappear into the night sky. I could only imagine the neighbours watching this, absolutely dumbfounded and open mouthed as to what exactly was going on.

I walked until I got close to the radiating light.

I walked until all I could see was the light.

I walked until all I could see were moths and light.

I walked into the light.

There were at least millions. All I could see were moths. They surrounded me completely in a flurrying tornado of pale colours and fluttering wings. They swarmed around me as all I could see in front of me, behind me, to the left and right of me, were moths. They were perfectly illuminated in this place. You could make out their colours, patterns, wings and antennas without imperfection. I looked down at the ground. Total black. I looked up towards the sky. Moths. This newfound place I was in seemed to lack any sort of depth perception. I felt like I was in a 2D painting or an old NES video game. I finished studying my surroundings, and my bewildered curiosity drove me forward into the storm of winged insects.

I could feel my feet moving, but the distance between me and them didn’t change. They continued to swim into the abyss around me like I wasn’t even there. Not once did any of them fly towards me. All I ever saw them do was fly around in an anti-clockwise circle, while keeping their distance from me. I continued to look in all directions. Still nothing else. I checked the ground again. Still walking on nothing. I wandered through the void for what my tired little legs felt like half an hour, and then that’s when I felt it.

At first, it was heat. It was a nice gentle heat, like one you would find sitting by a crackling fire in the winter time. It felt good to experience something other than confusion at this point. Staring at these beautiful creatures and feeling cosy, this place felt like bliss.

As quick as I had suddenly felt it, the heat started to become enraged and furious. My skin became roasted, irritated and itchy as this heat intensified quicker than a cheetah hunting down its targeted antelope. My eyes started to tear up as I screamed and roared for my parents, feeling a pain I had never once felt before in my life. As I screamed and roared, a sinister, deep laugh echoed from the depths of the unseen sky. First one laugh. Then many.

I squirmed on the ground screaming in pain as I baked in the searing heat and my ears cringed to the horrible sound of the deep, soul crunching laughing which made my little belly churn in disgust. I stared at the moths still surrounding my helpless body, not knowing the fate which was going to abolish me. I held my petrified eyes in my onesie covered hands, hoping the nightmare would all go away.

That’s when something odd happened.

I felt a small little tickle on my face, then several afterwards. I opened my eyes and dropped my hands to a sight that left my brain puzzled and made me feel stupidly perplexed.

One by one, the moths swooped down from their apparently pointless routine and gathered cultingly around my body. Slowly but surely, my fragile little body rose from the ground as the moths had surrounded me completely and lifted me up from the ground. The unbearable burning all over my body had now faded into itching, but the sound of laughter had now transformed into something much worse.

Angry, earth shaking roars trembled through the blackness and I could feel it in my brain as I felt my body fly back the way it came. The loud booming voices spoke in a language that I most certainly couldn’t comprehend, but I could feel their fury in the harsh and rusted tone that they howled horribly in. The voice only grew in intimidation, as I once again felt that blinding light strain against my eyes. The moths had brought me into this mysterious land, frightened me out of my wits with a fear I had never thought possible, and then rescued me from that personal hell.

I could once again feel the light now. Really close against me. The voice boomed. The light got brighter. The voice kept getting louder. Everything shaking. The moths got faster. Everything around me swirled like a marathon of incomprehensible fantasy and nonsense. The unfamiliar world as I knew it spinning out of plausible control.

They flew until I got close to the radiating light.

They flew until all I could see was the light.

They flew until all I could see was them and light.

They flew me into the light.

I had not experienced fear in my life like that before, or ever since. It took about a month before I could start thinking about other things other than that heat. The sound. The heat. My face stayed pale for weeks. My parents worried sick about what was wrong with me. I had told them, but they could only brush it off as a nightmare. The nightmares it did give me. The terror I had experienced during it and afterwards. My childhood came to a halt that month, as the harsh reality of world became apparent in that part of my life. I was only six.

I had not experienced fear in my life like that before, or ever since. That was, until last weekend.

Part 2

Throughout the rest of my current life, I had gotten flashbacks of that horrid night less frequently as the years went by. By the time I was 13, the thought of it literally only occurred to me once every 3 months or so, and when it did reoccur to me, I only felt a small shiver down my spine or something I could just brush off. For what should have been a traumatic childhood encounter, it really didn’t affect me that much during my teenage years.

I had a good life after all. My secondary school and teen years weren’t too troubling for either me or my parents. I had good friends and we had good times. I got good results and got along well with my teachers and students. I was a bit shy, and didn’t participate in many school related activities, but all in all that never really affected me personally.

Last week however, things changed a lot. For what was expected to be for worse, was actually for better. I had recently completed my first year of college and am currently off for summer. Like the year 2000, 2013 was another rare Irish summer where the sun blazed in the skies and the temperatures soared into their thirties. One night, the temperature was once again in the early twenties and I had the window open to let fresh air clean out the hot, humid room to an extent. As expected, bugs got in, such as Daddy Long-Legs, little midget flies and, of course, Moths.

Strangely enough, when the moths entered the room, I had no recollection of that night, but I gawked at them in curiosity just like I had 13 years ago. About 4 or 5 of them flew around the room and consistently thumped their light bodies in the light that was on in my room. Getting slightly irritated by the flickering, I switched off the light and tried to get some sleep. That’s when I felt one of them landing on my face, tickling me ever so softly, but enough feeling for it to irritate my skin.

Without giving it too much thought, I hopped up out of bed and flicked back on the light. This sent the now dispersed moths into a light fuelled frenzy as they flew unsystematically around my bedroom. I picked up my Levi shoe from the ground and approached my new target with caution. I stared at the dull, brown creature as I tensed the muscles in my scrawny right arm. The moth was frozen in place, unknowing of what was about to happen.


Like the pale yellow fellow of that June night 13 years ago, he drifted ever so innocently to the ground. My eyes seemed to fixate on the poor moth as it floated in the air, descending gradually towards the ground. Staring at the drifting body, I daydreamed of many things, as staring at it seemed to relax my mind and I felt an unwinding sense of euphoria throughout my brain. It was kind of like that relaxing feeling you have after a long period of undivided concentration.

I had only looked at it briefly when it had laid collapsed on the ground before I picked it up by the wing and flung it out the window. I looked around the room once more, to see that all the moths had disappeared, but that the daddy-long legs was still there, as well as 2 or 3 midget flies. It was there and then, that this particularly odd, unwanted feeling began to unleash itself deep within. Trying to think what I could be, I thought to myself that I’m probably just tired from walking around in that heat all day. Time for bed was my assumption.

I awakened with a bright shining coming through my open window. I checked my alarm clock beside me for the time, thinking it was early morning, around 9 or 10 a.m.

“3:28 a.m.” it read on the clock.

All those horrid memories of that night 13 years ago rushed back to me like a strong current washing me away downstream. I held my head in my hands with disgust for myself, thinking how foolish I was last night to have re-enacted that particular night’s events. “I shouldn’t have killed that moth” was the only thought that ran through my mind, as I got up and approached the window.

As expected, a long slit, about the same length as my six year old self, shun brightly towards my bedroom window and burned sharply in my eyes. I put on some woollen socks, got on a dressing gown, and wandered downstairs. As I approached the sliding door, and out into the newly built conservatory at the back of our house, I stared at the radiance once more, before cracking open the conservatory door, without any logical hesitation.

The doom built up in my stomach as I walked slowly down the same tiles towards the slit of light. I gazed up once more at the night sky, and the same static like image bore down from the sky, rushing towards the light like brave marching soldiers going into battle. I once more followed the static back down to earth and made out the moths as my vision brightened and the moths flew into the light like a beautiful meteor shower destined to dissolve in the midnight sky.

I walked until I got close to the radiating light.

I walked until all I could see was the light.

I walked until all I could see were moths and light.

I walked into the light.

The harsh nostalgia was enough to make me frantically shake in my quickly paling skin. Terrifying reminiscences hastened their pace to flood my terrified memory bank. All I could think about was that excruciating pain stinging my skin and that hollow, deep laughter boring right into my lungs. I ignored the millions of flurrying moths that were flying anti-clockwise around me for the second time in my life, and now focused on finding out why this occurs, where exactly I am and what it has to do with the mysterious moths.

I took one step forward before I jumped out of my skin with total anxiety. As soon as I had put my foot to the so called “ground” a thundering echo of my footstep exploded around this empty, moth filled wasteland. My teeth jittered at the thought of taking another step, but slowly, I mustered up the courage to continue forward, as I raised my left foot and let it down as gently as I could. I had cleverly braced my ears for another overwhelming sound, but even then I still cowered up and stood perfectly still.

“I can’t do this, I CAN’T DO THIS.” I roared desperately aloud, to myself.

That’s when about 60 or so moths flew out from their rhythm and flew around in a small cylinder shape right in front of me. They did this for what was a baffling 30 seconds before they flew back in to the rest of their many friends. In front of me, stood an old man, with a creamy, fawn coloured jacket, a bushy grey beard and messy grey hair, large black boots and dark blue denim jeans. I looked into his old brown eyes and elderly wrinkled skin. I went to speak, before he coughed, making absolutely sure he spoke before me.

“The Moths mean you no harm, and if you wish to leave here tonight, you must continue forward.” he said in a monotonous, yet reassuring tone.

“Who, who are you?” I enquired.

“That is not important for now, but what I can tell you, is that this is a place that you will most certainly want to leave, Tim.” he replied.

The man spoke with a sincere sense of confidence, which I couldn’t quite decipher.

“H-How-H-How did you kn-know my name?” I replied hesitantly.

“You are trapped once more in this black abyss and that is the least of your worries?” he replied.

“I was just asking” I said, cautiously

He let out a half-hearted sigh and looked towards the ground.

“Continue forward, and you will seek the answers to the questions you ask.”

And it was as soon as he had appeared right in front of me that he had happily fucked off to wherever it was he came from. I was left staring back into moths after he quickly faded and vanished into thin air. So, I inhaled a large breath of air into my lungs, brushed aside any thought of dread or fear that I may have and decided that I will continue forward. Running seemed like a solid plan.

Sprinting made no effect on the sound whatsoever as it was as loud as it had been beforehand. The first few steps were admittedly a bit of difficulty, but it was a soon as I had gathered a fast yet steady pace that I easily ignored the vast, distant, dominating sound. I ran and ran and ran and didn’t seem to once run out of steam during my running. The moths in front of me acted like a rainbow with their many different, varying colours that could never be touched no matter how hard you tried or no matter how much you wanted to.

I continued my sprint right up until I got that itch again. My face dropped, and instinctively, I began to run faster and faster, but to my distraught this only accelerated the speed at which the pain developed. Before I knew it, I had collapsed to the ground, with the itching now turning into a blistering burning all over my body. I could feel the fire that I could not see, and it left me balling my eyes out in fear.

I shook uncontrollably on the ground in what felt like a thousand bees wrathfully stinging me. The moths continued to whizz by me but with my attention now focused solely on the burning sensation, all of their dull colours seemed to blur into one sickly image that an drug addict might experience on a bad acid trip. As I roared at the very tip top of my lungs, praying for my blazing pain to cease and to free me from my torture, I heard that low grunting in the distance. I cried out helplessly once more as the grunt turned into that horrible, howling laughter that was so deep it shook the calcium away from every single bone within my body.

It was like I could hear the pain I was feeling, trapped lying on this invisible ground. The laughing, which now sounded like it was released from a suppressed mental patient, was now combined with a gut-wrenching, blood curdled vomiting sound which dominated the entire realm. The pain seared on through my body as the blur from the whizzing moths drew closer towards me. That euphoria I experienced while staring at the moth earlier had returned as I now knew they were drawing in closer. My pain worsened, the sound became even more unbearable, but I knew now this was when I finally leave.

Once more they flown around and picked me up. I felt my body flying as the moths carried me full speed back towards the light. It was now that I had turned completely deaf, and couldn’t hear any sound, but still felt that agonizing pain which was throbbing through my entire body. I looked around me, and for the first time, I could see the black horizon and the black distance of this abyss, and not just on the floor.

And that’s when I saw their faces.

At first it looked like dripping tarmac running down the walls, but gradually, grotesque humanoid faces evolved from the walls. At first, there were tens, but eventually, it looked like thousands. They surrounded me and the moths, as they daringly flew right past them without seemingly batting an eye to them. I could now see what looked like a little coin slot in the distance, which meant I was minutes from crossing back through the portal. I turned back around once more, trying my best to ignore the burning sensation all over, only to see three black, outlined faces following me at an extreme speed, while keeping their distance. Bit by bit, the black peeled away to reveal giant, pink blistering faces with large, bloodshot eyeballs and no eyelids. They had blank, depressed looks on their faces, until the one in the middle, opened his mouth.

“Hey Tim!” the one in the middle said in a menacing, low pitched voice, “you won’t be able to take your eyes off THIS!”

That’s when he revealed big, sharp, rotting teeth that were black, brown and rusted, as brown, slimy goo dripped from his sharp teeth and his sharp tongue. His eyes pounded like my skin as he opened his mouth further. As he did so, a gruesome chunky white fluid fell freely from his mouth like a waterfall of sour milk. The two faces either side of him which had remained neutral this whole time, now started to twist and turn, with the sound of bones snapping and crunching infecting my eardrums which I thought had been safe from this realm.

During that time I had tried my best to turn back around to look where the portal was, but the pain in my body left me frozen still. I tried my best to turn away and even look at the faces in the horizon, but it was no use. As the tongue of the middle face swirled, more moths flew back over to the three faces following us. I looked on at the valiant moths, as suddenly now, the tables turned as screams of anguish rattled throughout this place. The screams were of a higher pitch than usual low muffles.

The moths had submerged these hideous faces for about thirty seconds, before floating away again like nothing even happened. The faces had now frozen and quickly vanished into the distance but I still managed a glimpse of what was three faces, half blistered and half skeleton, fade away into black. I once more found the strength to turn my head back around, as I caught a glimmer of light at the edge of my eye. It took me a few seconds, before I could fully face the right way again.

They flew until I got close to the radiating light.

They flew until all I could see was the light.

They flew until all I could see was them and light.

They flew me into the light.

The next thing I remember was a searing pain in my head and waking up in the middle of my back garden, when it was still dark. I looked around, my head still spinning from the events I had encountered. I took a look around me, and a glowing, illuminating white light caught my eye. I swung my dizzy head towards the source and what I saw made my eyes water in disbelief.

"You again.” I said to the man who appeared to me before that hell I just stumbled upon. There was a moth as white as snow fluttering around him ever so innocently.

Paranoia rained over me once again but he had a nice sombre grin that was comfortably reassuring.

“Hello again, Tim.” he muttered to me.

“Who are you? Please, just give me some answers” I begged him.

“Don’t worry, you have been through a lot, and you have braved the depths of hell itself. You will be rewarded.” He responded in his deep, calm voice.

I breathed heavily while I continued to stare up at his wrinkled face.

“You can call me, Roger McCarthy” he said to me, in a deferential tone. “I was the previous owner of your house.”

I continued to gaze upon his ghastly face. He was a spirit, a past tenant that never left, and here he was, protecting me and looking out for me.

“Those Moths you saw in there, they saved your life, and they have done so on many occasions.” he continued. “They have a purpose on this earth that is far more complicated than any man can comprehend. They’re seen as useless insects by many, but very few know of their true power. I was one of them.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like it when I squashed them?” I enquired jokingly.

“No, I didn’t appreciate it at all.” he said to me. “I thought that if you were to witness their work first hand, then maybe you would appreciate it a lot more.”

“What kind of work is that?” I asked confused.

He let out a semi-sinister mumbling laugh, before stating “Oh let’s just say they keep people like me under control”.

With that him and the pure white moth faded away one final time into thin air. A thin, plastic card dropped instantly to the ground, while a sheet of thin paper seemed to float majestically through the air. I walked over to the card, picked it up and studied it. It was an old, employment card and it was peeling a lot, but it gave me all the information I needed.


Name: Roger McCarthy

DOB: March 26th, 1928

Museum: Natural History, Merrion Street, Dublin 2.

Department: Lepidoptera”

Roger McCarthy was a specialist on Moths and Butterflies at the Museum of Natural History in Ireland. I giggled a little in both excitement and disbelief. I dropped the card and then picked up the sheet of paper

“We possess power far greater than any man has ever achieved in their lifetime. We possess a force far greater than anything nature can throw at this earth. We have a duty to keep this world in good balance and in good hands and no being can defeat the purpose that we have. No evil can shoot down the power that we have. Our sole purpose is to protect and to serve the innocent souls of this earth, who would be lost souls without us

Imagine one day you fall into a slumber so deep, that it transforms you completely. Certain animals hibernate for winter, others sleep during the night. Nocturnal animals sleep when the sun beams down upon this great blue planet and awaken when the silvery moonshine calls them out. We moths transform so much. One day, we are caterpillars munching upon the green leaves. The next we are emerging from our furry wrapped closure that has submerged us into soldiers of all that stand for good and all that stands for justice. We are the soldiers of God, and we protect all those from the forces of evil.

You can refer to us as “Guardian Angels”, or you can refer to us “annoying insects who flicker at the lights”, but just remember the next time that you see one of us fluttering around your bedroom light or that you see us paused in solemn on the kitchen wall, just remember that we are in your house for perfectly good reason. We hold back the evil spirits from entering the lives of beings, and we use the power granted to us to grace the world as best as we can.

We are the Moths.”

I cried like a little baby with tears of joy. My little winged friends had saved my life, and shown me their true purpose on this earth. These beautiful little winged creatures.

They are the moths.

Written by CrashingCymbal
Content is available under CC-BY-SA