The Light Protector

Claire snuggled into bed as her mother tucked her in. The dim glow of the nightlight and the warmth of the blankets cocooned around her gently lulled her to sleep. Her eyes drooped but instantly snapped open again as she heard a soft humming sound. She blinked, and in the shadows, she saw a flying insect at the window. It had large orangey-brown wings with black spots, and it kept flying at the window, as if trying to attack the light within,

Claire screamed, sitting straight up in the bed. Her mother rushed to her side. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“There’s a big ugly bug outside!” Claire exclaimed, pointing out the window at the insect.

Her mother laughed. “She’s not ugly. She’s a moth, and her name is Isabella.”

Claire blinked, confused. “Moths have names?”

“This one does,” her mother replied. “You see, before Isabella was a moth, she was a real little girl not much older than you.”

Claire was even more confused than ever! A million questions buzzed in her mind, even louder than the buzzing of Isabella’s wings outside the window. “Why did she turn into a moth? Why doesn’t she change back? Why is she here?”

“She likes your nightlight.”

While that answered one question, many others took its place. Was Isabella afraid of the dark too? Did she want to take the light all for herself? “Why?” Claire asked.

“There wasn’t much light in Isabella’s life, so now she finds it wherever she can,” her mother said.

Claire studied her mother’s face for several moments, searching for the answers that eluded her. “Why?” she asked again.

Her mother sat at the edge of the bed, patting the blankets beside her. Claire crawled to the other end of the bed, nestling in her mother’s arms. “Tell me the story,” she said, looking up with expectant eyes.

“Well, it all started a long time ago…” her mother began.

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Isabella lived in ancient times, when gods and goddesses ruled the world. She was the only child of Cato and Ophelia, a scholar and an artist, respectively. Unlike the others in their village, Cato and Ophelia doubted the existence of the gods. Cato believed in irrefutable, measurable science; what could not be seen or explained did not exist. Ophelia believed in the human spirit; people were capable of providing themselves with anything they needed. Their beliefs merged to produce a diligent, spirited girl with fiery orange-brown hair and a curious mind that burned with an insatiable hunger for knowledge.

On the last weekend of the month, Isabella accompanied her parents to the market. There, Ophelia sold her creations from a small cramped stall at the far end of the marketplace. Meanwhile, Cato recited his newly written essays and philosophical musings in the square to anyone who cared to listen. Before he left, he gave Isabella a handful of coins to spend on whatever she liked. “Use it wisely,” he warned.

Isabella explored the market, marveling at the collection of wares. There were delicious snacks, handmade pots, beautiful clothes, shiny trinkets, luxurious carpets, and exotic animals from faraway lands. None of them appealed to Isabella. Reaching the end of the marketplace, she saw an old woman selling violets. The stall was little more than an overturned crate, but the flowers were the most beautiful Isabella had ever seen! They were perfectly shaped blooms in rich shades of blue and purple like the night sky.

“Hello!” Isabella greeted the old woman. “What lovely flowers! Did you grow them yourself?”

The old woman shook her head. “Not by myself, no,” she said. “I couldn’t have grown them without the gods’ love. The gods love all living things, you know.”

Isabella looked around the market. She saw a bedraggled dandelion growing in a crack in the road until it was trampled by passers-by. She saw a weak baby bird trying and failing to fly out of its nest. She saw an old man with a bandaged leg, struggling to balance against his cane. She saw a child about her own age begging for scraps of food as the crowd passed impassively by. She saw a family passing by in a cart filled with fruits and vegetables to sell. Their back wheel hit a bump and broke with a loud CRACK! The cart’s back panel dislodged, sending the fruits and vegetables smashing to the ground, and along with them, the family’s hopes of income.

Isabella looked back at the woman with a confused expression. “If the gods really love us, why do they allow such suffering?”

The old woman opened her mouth to speak, but a familiar voice cut her off before she had the chance. “Because they don’t exist, that’s why!”

Isabella turned around to meet her father’s disapproving gaze. “Come now, don’t waste your money on this crackpot and her trickery! You know better than to believe what you can’t explain.”

Ophelia appeared, nodding in agreement. She offered the woman a kind smile. “You shouldn’t let the gods take credit for your hard work. Be proud of your success!”

The old woman’s eyes changed, darkening the same shade as the violets. In a flash of light, she was gone. In her place was a beautiful young woman with tan skin and golden hair that glowed like the sun. A goddess!

“Do you still think I don’t exist?” The Goddess demanded. The ground shook with the thunder of her words, throwing the baby bird out of its nest and the old man off his cane. “Kneel before me, foolish mortals!”

Isabella’s eyes widened, looking to her parents for answers. Neither Cato nor Ophelia kneeled. They stood tall and proud in the face of The Goddess’s wrath, so Isabella tried to do the same. She stood alongside her parents, though her body and heart trembled with fear. The Goddess laughed. “Since you won’t kneel as men, you will crawl as worms!”

There was another flash of light. When it cleared, The Goddess was gone, and Isabella and her family were on the ground. The marketplace loomed over them like mountains. Isabella tried to stand, but all she could do was crawl on her belly. As punishment for their disbelief and arrogance, The Goddess had turned them all into caterpillars!

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Isabella’s new body was covered in hair, black like the darkness of her new life, with an orangey-brown patch like her hair in her human form, like the flame of her anger at the gods. Now she saw the truth; the gods allowed so much suffering to happen because it was entertainment to them. They didn’t love the living at all!

Unable to return to the life they knew, Isabella and her parents inched along in search of a new home and food. More often than not, they were limited to the sparse grasses and wildflowers that grew along the roadsides, or else they went hungry. Once in a great while, they would happen upon a field or garden full of flowers on which to feast. The three caterpillars gorged themselves on a floral banquet, but of all the flowers, Isabella’s favorite to eat were the violets that reminded her of the gods’ treachery.

She devoured every violet that crossed her path, ripping holes in their leaves, ravaging their blue and purple petals until their beauty that the gods so loved was gone, and they resembled little more than withered husks of their former selves, just like Isabella herself. That or until an angry gardener chased her and her family away, whichever came first.

One day, Isabella sat atop a wilting violet, happily munching on its leaves while her mother and father dined on clover and sunflowers growing nearby in the garden. Suddenly, a man appeared, yelling and brandishing a hoe as ran toward them. Isabella and Ophelia managed to scamper away in time, but Cato was caught under the hoe’s cold, cruel blade.

Ophelia wept over her husband’s mangled, lifeless body, but Isabella’s tears were burned away by anger. “How dare you?!” she screamed at the man, shaking one of her tiny legs at him like a fist.

She inched up his foot, trying to bite him in retaliation for killing her father, but no matter how hard she bit, no matter how loud she raged, the man could neither feel nor hear her. As Isabella slunk away in defeat, a blinding ray of sunlight peeked out from behind a cloud, as if the gods were laughing at her suffering.

“Come on, Mother! We have to move!” Isabella said. She gave her a gentle nudge, but Ophelia wouldn’t move, paralyzed by grief.

With all her strength, Isabella pushed her mother onto a long blade of grass and nibbled through the end until it detached from the ground. Taking the gnawed end in her mouth, she slowly inched along, dragging her mother on the blade of grass with her until she felt she could move no more. She stopped in the middle of an overgrown clearing, where they would stay for the rest of the year.

As Summer turned to Fall, food became scarce. Still, Isabella shared what little scraps she could find with her mother, but Ophelia wouldn’t eat. She would barely move. All she could do was lie on her blade of grass, weeping for her lost love. One day as a cold winter’s chill set in, Ophelia emerged. She inched along until she came to a pile of dead leaves and burrowed underneath. “I’m just going to sleep for a while,” she said.

But she never woke up.

Isabella lay down beside her mother, staring hopelessly at the sky through a gap in the leaf pile. Once again, bright cheery sunlight beamed down as an ironic reminder of her pain. She felt her heart and body freezing solid as she waited for the sweet, inevitable release of death to take her too. Haven’t I suffered enough? She thought as she closed her eyes, but Isabella did not die that day.

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When Isabella opened her eyes, Spring had come again. She crawled out of her leaf pile to the sweet smells of wildflowers and sounds of birds singing. All alone, she inched along, indiscriminately devouring every grass and flower in sight. If she made herself fat enough, she might eventually join her parents in death. Not even the gods could keep her alive forever!

Dragging her oversized body along, she spied a patch of violets growing in a garden beside a tiny cabin. No longer able to climb the stem to reach the luscious petals, she contented herself with nibbling on the lowest leaves. As she ate, she heard voices rising and peered through the grass to see a family much like her own: a farmer, his wife, and his daughter.

The farmer approached, but Isabella didn’t flinch. She started at him defiantly, daring him to strike her with his hoe. But that didn’t happen. “Hello, little friend!” The Farmer said, bending down to get a good look at her. “Don’t be afraid. There’s plenty of food for you here.”

Isabella studied The Farmer’s face, finding comfort in his kind eyes. She cautiously crawled onto his outstretched finger, and he lifted her to the top of the violet.

That violet became Isabella’s home for the rest of the Spring. Every day, she would perch atop her violet, basking in the sun as she watched The Farmer’s family work and play. Under their patient care, she gradually regained her strength and lost her desire for overeating. She limited herself to only grass and violets, sparing the other flowers that The Farmer’s wife and daughter loved and the fruit and vegetable plants that the family needed to survive. She wouldn’t let this family suffer like her own did!

Every night, Isabella would fall asleep to the soft glow of a lantern in The Farmer’s window. As long as that lantern burned, she knew her friends were safe and happy.

One late Spring night, Isabella awoke to unexpected darkness. The lantern had gone out. She sat atop her violet perch, anxiously watching the house until night turned into dawn. She waited for the door to open, for The Farmer and his family to greet her like they did every morning, but the house stayed still and silent. Her friends had moved away.

Alone again, Isabella curled into a defeated ball, closing her eyes against the beaming sun that mocked her pain. First you took my form, then my family, and now my friends, she silently raged at the gods. There’s nothing left of me for you to take… She lied still until an idea occurred to her. The gods couldn’t make her suffer anymore if she cut herself off from the world!

Isabella toiled day and night, weaving walls of silk and fur until she’d built a little cave just wide enough for her to crawl into. There she would stay, safe from pain and cruelty, until the living world became kinder or the dead world welcomed her with open arms. As she drifted off to sleep, the tears she’d held inside for so long finally spilled forth. She wept for all she’d lost: her human life, her father, her mother, her friends. Her tears transformed into wings, enveloping her in a golden orange blanket as she slept.

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Isabella didn’t know how long had passed when she opened her eyes. She emerged from her cocoon under the cover of night to find she now had wings, fiery orange-brown like her hair had been with black spots like the sorrow that once marred her life. With her new wings, she could soar high above the suffering the world had to offer!

She spied a light in the distance, burning bright as the happiness that long ago left her life. Drawn by its comforting glow, she followed the light as fast as her wings could carry her to a little house. Peering into the window, she saw her old friends: The Farmer, his wife, daughter, and a new baby!

Isabella flittered back and forth outside the window, buzzing happily. The Farmer, having just put his baby daughter to bed, looked out the window and smiled. “Hello again, little friend!”

For that night on, Isabella stood guard over the light in The Farmer’s window so that it may never go out like the light in her life once did. She protected The Farmer for the rest of his life, and when he died, she protected his wife and daughters, his daughters’ children, their children, and so on until their bloodline ended. Now she roams the night, searching for new light. When she finds a soul that burns as brightly as her old friend’s, she guards it with her life so that it may never suffer in darkness as she once did.

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Claire drifted off to sleep, comforted by her mother’s tale. When she saw an isabella tiger moth at her window the next night, she wasn’t scared. She smiled, watching the orangey-brown creature flitter and dance in the glow of her nightlight. “Hello, Isabella!” she greeted her new little friend.