The Firefly

The firefly would visit him often. Every night after his bath, the boy would scamper down the hall and into his room. The firefly would be waiting for him. Each night it hovered just outside his window, wings fluttering, its yellow glow flashing gently.

“Hey Willow,” the boy whispered excitedly, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “I brought you something.”

From behind his back, the boy produced a bowl of coconut milk. The liquid sloshed against the sides of its container as the boy continued his overjoyed hopping. “Mom said you wouldn’t like coconut milk,” he said as he unhooked the latch on the window. “But I told her, ‘everyone likes coconut milk, silly!’ Anyway, I think you’re really going to like this.”

Despite his excitement, the boy paused before opening the window. For almost a week now, the firefly had been coming to greet him. But, up till now, the boy had only observed the twinkling creature from afar, never daring to get too close lest he frighten away his new friend.

Tonight, however, as he’d sat gobbling down his dinner, he’d resolved to take a chance.

He opened the window, half expecting the firefly to dash out of sight.

It did not.

Instead, the insect continued to hover, pointed toward the boy as if observing him keenly.

Scarcely breathing, the boy balanced the bowl onto the window ledge and took a few small steps back. “There you go, Willow,” he said, his high-pitched voice a mere whisper.

The firefly seemed to regard him for a second more before it slowly approached the offering. To the boy’s delight, his friend perched on the bowl’s rim and, after several more seconds, began to drink.

“I knew you’d like it.”

Finished with its treat, the firefly began flitting around the room. Seeing this action as an invitation, the boy took the opportunity to parade his most prized possessions in front of his new friend.

“This one is my most favourite favourite,” he emphasized, holding up his red firetruck. “Do you like it?”

The firefly’s light flashed.

After he’d given the firefly the grand tour, the boy finally worked up enough courage to ask, “Willow, how would you like to stay with me for a bit?”

The firefly hovered for a beat before its light blinked.

Taking that as a definitely ‘maybe,’ the boy made his way over to the final piece of his show-and-tell.

Perched upon his nightstand was a domed glass container. Inside were some leaves and a few carefully arranged branches.

“I asked my mom and she said I can keep you. If you want to stay, I mean.”

“Who are you talking to?” came his mother’s voice from down the hall. “It’s nearly time for bed.”

“Just a few more minutes, Mom! I’m talking to Willow.”

“Alright,” came his mother’s doting reply. “Five more minutes, but that’s all.”

“Yes, Mom!”

By now, the firefly had landed on his nightstand, inspecting its would-be home.

“What do you think?” the boy asked, a nervous hesitancy creeping into his voice.

The firefly’s light blinked.

“Yay!” the boy cheered, scrambling over to lift the domed glass lid. “Go on! Check it out!”

The boy waited while his friend inspected the leaves and branches which made up its new abode. When the firefly had nestled comfortably into the foliage, the boy gently placed the lid on top.

“There’s a hole here, don’t worry.” He pointed to a tiny opening at the apex of the dome, large enough to provide air but not so large that his friend could escape.

Twenty minutes later, as the boy’s mother was tucking him in, she warned, “Make sure you keep the lid shut, or Willow will fly away.”

“Okay, mom,” he agreed as she bent over to kiss him goodnight.

At the time, he’d meant what he’d said—the boy hadn’t had any intention of lifting the lid that night. That changed, however, when a shrill voice woke him from sleep several hours later.

“Hello? Hello?”

The boy lifted one sleepy eyelid. “Mom?”

“Not mom,” came the whispered voice. “Willow.”

“Willow?” The boy rolled over to find the firefly perched on a twig, its light blinking on and off.

“Yeeess.”

“You can talk,” he said in mystified wonder.

The light blinked. “Will you let me out, friend?”

“Oh.” The boy was dismayed. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Mom said I have to keep it closed…or you’ll fly away.”

“I won’t leave you,” the firefly promised. “I am thirsty.”

“Oh,” the boy repeated, turning to find the bowl of coconut milk lying forgotten on the table across the room. “I can get you some.”

“Let me out and I will get it.”

“I can do it,” the boy persisted cheerfully, pulling back the covers.

“No.”

The boy paused, feeling uneasy at his friend’s stern tone.

“You are tired…comfortable…rest and I will get it.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

“Promise.” The light blinked.

The boy pouted, still unsure.

“Please…friend. We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Okay.”

The boy leaned over, lifted the lid, and placed it on the nightstand. He watched the firefly flit over to the bowl and perch on the rim of it. The firefly took a long drink.

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

“Come back and I’ll put the lid back on,” the boy suggested with a yawn.

“I am still thirsty. But you are tired. Sleep. I promise I will still be here tomorrow.”

The boy’s lingering hesitancy vanished with a few blinks of the firefly’s light. As he stared at the rhythmic on-off-on-off of the firefly’s light, he felt slumber take a firm hold on him once again.

* * *

“He’s not waking up.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“What are all those marks?”

The following night, the boy could hear voices coming from the hall outside his room. As he opened his eyes, he could tell it was still late; the only sources of light were his dinosaur-shaped nightlight and the soft, occasional glow of the firefly.

“Mom?” he asked weakly.

“Not mom,” came the reply.

The firefly sat on its perch. Its blinking light seemed unusually bright that night.

“Will you let me out, friend?”

“Okay,” the boy responded and reached over to lift the lid.

The firefly came over and hovered above him.

“I think something is wrong, Willow. I think my dad might be sick. Earlier, mom said he wasn’t feeling good and now—"

“Parents do not know everything.”

“Yeah, but…I’m scared.”

“All will be well. No matter what…you always have me.”

“Thanks, Willow.”

The boy looked across the room to find the bowl, now empty of coconut milk. “Oh. Are you thirsty? I can go get something.”

“Do not trouble yourself, friend. I’ve had all the nourishment I need.”

“Where are you going?” the firefly asked, moving over to hover by the bedroom door.

“To see my dad,” the boy answered, climbing out of bed.

“You should let him rest. It is important to rest when one is sick.”

“I know, but I want to see if he is okay. Maybe some coconut milk would him feel better too.”

“You should not bother him now.”

“I won’t bother him,” the boy protested, his voice rising into a childish whine.

The firefly’s light blinked a few times in quick succession. “No.”

The boy stopped, feeling frightened of his friend for the first time.

The firefly seemed to realize this, because it hovered nearer, its voice dropping to kinder tones.

“He is sleeping by now, I am sure. Check on him tomorrow.”

The boy was suddenly wary of the firefly. Feeling suspicious and afraid, he crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up around his chin.

“‘Kay,” the boy said, hoping his friend would believe him.

Seemingly placated, the firefly moved closer. “Sleep now. All will be well.”

The boy did not sleep. Instead, he lay with his eyes tightly shut, and waited. He was waiting for his friend to fall asleep. Then he would replace the lid of the firefly’s container and go see his dad.

He’d been waiting for what felt like an eternity when he simply couldn’t wait any longer. Opening one eye just slightly, he looked around for the firefly’s light. Both eyes now open wide, the boy was shocked to discover that he was alone. Willow was nowhere to be found.

Jumping out of bed, he crept to the open door and peered out into the darkened hallway. Once he was sure the firefly was nowhere in sight, he tiptoed out into the shadows and down the hall.

He stopped outside his parents’ room and listened. From inside he could hear the sounds of heavy, laboured breathing. Secondary to this sound was a distinct slurping, like the sound the boy made when he ate his mom’s spaghetti.

After several seconds, a third sound made its presence known. This one was a soft, enduring groan of pain.

The boy froze as a chill raced down his spine. Even more unsettling than the myriad of sounds coming from inside the room was the unmistakable serenade of his mother singing softly downstairs.

Someone was in the room with his father.

He should have called for help. Deep down, he knew that was the smart thing to do. His mother would have come running. She always knew exactly what to do; she surely would have saved the day.

But curiosity got the better of him.

Slowly, the boy turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

It took several agonizing seconds for his mind to process the scene that was playing out before him.

His father was lying, supine, on the bed. His head lolled awkwardly to one side and his skin was so pale it practically shone in the moonlight streaming in from the open window.

A nightmarish figure loomed over him. The monster’s back was facing the boy and, at first, he thought the figure was that of an older woman.

The boy soon realized his mistake when he took a better look at the thing in his parents’ room. Two humanoid legs sat beneath what looked to be the cylindrical abdomen of an insect. Thick scales covered the legs and abdomen; the scales on the latter were yellow at the bottom, transitioning to a dark grey the further up they went. On the monster’s back, two wings suddenly unfurled, fluttering almost contentedly.

The boy hadn’t yet finished his visual inspection of the monster when the yellow scales shone with a sudden, intermittent glow.

“Willow?” the boy said without thinking, horror evident in his tone.

The firefly spun around, its joints clicking audibly with the movement. Now that he could see it more clearly, the boy could tell the monster had vaguely human-shaped arms—also covered in scales—and a human face. The lips of that human face were pulled back in a distinctly inhuman snarl; two razor-sharp fangs flashed at him in the moonlight.

“You should have listened, friend.”

The boy screamed though his feet seemed frozen in place. Within seconds, he could hear his mother scrambling up the stairs. Then she was at his side and she was screaming too.

Willow advanced on them, its light flashing and its joints clicking.

“Run!” his mother screamed, pushing him ahead of her out the door.

They ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over themselves in the process. Letting adrenaline be their guide, the pair raced into the kitchen. The boy had thrown open the back door when he heard his mother stop.

“Mom?” he asked, turning around.

His mother was looking back toward the kitchen door, a determined look on her face.

“Go,” she said.

“What?!”

“If we leave, that thing will kill your father.” She crouched down in front of the sink, wrenching open the cabinet doors and rooting around for something. “I’m going to kill it first.”

The boy didn’t leave. Instead, he waited for his mom, not wanting to leave her to face Willow alone.

From his position, he could see the firefly moving toward them in the darkness beyond the kitchen door. Blood and saliva dripped from its fangs. A malicious smile seemed to tug the corners of its lips upward.

“Mom!” he yelled. “It’s coming!”

The firefly didn’t stop as it crossed the threshold. It came barreling toward the boy, fangs at the ready.

He screamed again and covered his eyes.

Just when he thought the firefly would grab him, he heard the sizzle of flame followed by an inhuman shriek.

He opened his eyes to see his mother standing before him, a spray can in one hand, a lighter in the other. The firefly stood just beyond her, its form swallowed up in red and orange flame.

His mother ushered him to the side as the firefly came toward them. As it got closer to the open door, she grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and smashed it against the firefly’s side. The force of the blow knocked Willow off balance, and it fell out into the backyard.

They waited with bated breath until the flames went out and they were certain the firefly was dead. All at once, they breathed a sigh of relief.

Three weeks had passed since his mother had killed the firefly and all was well. His father had recovered and the three of them were just getting back into the swing of a normal life.

On one of these normal evenings, the boy was heading downstairs to fetch a toy that had been put into storage. When he got to the bottom, he heard a loud ‘pop’ and the lights went out.

He gasped in fright and began searching blindly for the stairs. Just as his hand wrapped around the railing, he saw something which made him scream aloud.

There, in front of him, just behind the staircase, several small lights flashed.