The Green Moth

She slammed the shed door behind her, which was followed by the sound of crickets and sniffles.

“Why can’t they just understand me?”, the young woman said as she grabbed her phone to turn on a flashlight, which only showed the chipped old wood that held the wide shed together. Her face lit up and even though her eyes were red with tears, you could see her soft young face.

Everything stopped when she heard the footsteps. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone but her sad lonesome self, sulking in her despair. She flashed the light in the footstep’s direction, but a swift flutter of some kind kept moving with each place she looked. The flutter seemed to walk closer, with each flash of the light making the sound ring in her ear. With one final swoop, the young woman saw him.

It appeared to be a man in a bug costume. A very realistic bug costume. His giant red eyes glistened in the light, and the fur on his body was a soft mint green. She slowly backed up in shock at the man, not knowing whether to scream or run. He walked up to her slowly and reached his hand out, showing the mint fur that covered his body from head to toe.

He reached out and grabbed her phone. “This is an interesting device.” The man in the bug suit observed the phone, covering the light that it admitted and gasping in astonishment. “How does it,” the phone vibrated and he quickly dropped it, fluttering off with the wings on his back and attaching himself to the ceiling. “Son of a moth, is that supposed to do that?”

The woman was completely bewildered by the occurring events. She nervously grabbed her phone from the ground and pointed it at the man who hung from the ceiling.

“Are you,” she paused trying to find the courage to ask the most bizarre question she had ever asked anyone before, “Are you Mothman?”

The mysterious being that was once thought to be a man calmly climbed down from the walls and put his hands on his hips. “The one and only.”

“I think I need to go home.” This was too much emotional distress for her to handle.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” She stopped at his expressive command. “I know how crazy this looks, but I’m here to help. Just hear me out.” He fluttered towards a nearby chair as she followed him with her flashlight in one hand and the door handle on the other.

He patted a chair next to him to suggest she should sit. She looked at the doorknob, then back at the alleged superstition, and took a seat.

They both sat awkwardly for a few seconds. In the direct light of the flashlight, you could tell that the young woman was no more than a teenage girl, already in high school. Her nails were painted black and her hair was cut very short.

“So,” she began the conversation, “Aren’t you supposed to be around natural disasters or something? I guess that’s why you’re here.” She let out an awkward laugh.

He laughed with her. “Actually I kinda don’t do that anymore.” His body was very animated to make up for the lack of facial expression. “I realized a while back that instead of letting nature take its course, that I can help in a lot of meaningful ways.”

The shed filled with silence. She took a moment to think and nodded her head in disagreement. “This is too much.” She began to walk towards the door. “I don’t need an inspirational speech from a talking moth.”

He fluttered directly in front of her. “Please.” She gasped at his swift movement. He continued, “Why were you crying when you walked in?”

She crossed her arms. “I wasn’t.” There was no confidence in her voice.

He crossed his arms as well. “Then why do your eyes look like mine?” His giant red eyes stared casually at her.

She noticed that her tears hadn’t dried up yet. “I just,” she began to choke up. Her face wrinkled at the first thought of being vulnerable. She took a deep breath, and spoke. “My parents just don’t understand how to raise me.” She decided to keep her pain close. There was too much emotion in what she actually thought.

Mothman reached out his hand and guided the young woman back to the chairs. “Understanding is a difficult concept.”

She was intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Mothman leaned in closer. “Do you know why people call me Mothman?” He asked rhetorically. “Because they assume I’m a man.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. It was the realization that he knew exactly what she was going through. She struggled with a similar dilemma.

“I mean, look at me.” He pointed to different parts of his body all covered in fur. “All they see is the fur and they automatically assume I’m a man. I’m more complex than that, ya know?” His demeanor showed how exhausted he was of being called Mothman. The young woman leaned in closer, captivated by his words. “But I can’t let that stop me from saving people,” he continued, “I can’t let that stop me from being my most authentic self.”

She was actively wiping her tears and trying to comprehend him at the same time. “What should people call you then?” She asked a question that she wished more people asked her.

“Well, I like the title ‘The Moth,’ but my friends call me Moth. You can too.”

For the first time in days, the young woman let out a genuine smile. “You’re really weird, Moth.” She said with a soft chuckle.

“And you’re taking this very well for a human who’s perceivable universe just expanded by, like, a lot.” They both relaxed at the friendly discussion, letting out a simultaneous sigh of relief. .

“How did you get so educated?” She asked continuing the conversation.

“Experience.” He responded quickly. “People don’t realize it, but the more you talk with those of different backgrounds, the better you are at understanding your own self. I learned from a little old lady with glasses that more differences are what unite us. What’s more different than a talking moth?”

The young woman lowered her head in slight embarrassment. “I’m sorry I was gonna walk away from you. You talk like my counselor.”

“Well what’s going on with those tears?” He crossed his legs, mocking a sassy therapist.

Another brief moment of silence passed. “I just want my parents to understand me.” She paused. “They make assumptions on who they think I am. I just want them to accept me for me.”

The Moth stroked his imaginary goatee. “I had a feeling it’d be about this. That’s why I brought up my title. Dad’s too strict on the patriarchy, huh?”

She nodded, even though she barely knew what the patriarchy meant.

“Do you understand what I am?” He asked. “Like, could you point to where my heart is?”

The young woman looked at him up and down. “Um, I don’t believe I can.”

He leaned in close and whispered. “Neither can I. Yet, I know that somewhere in this body is a heart.” He patted his fur and green dust twinkled in the moonlight. “Your parents do not need to understand you, they just have to accept you. You are aware that whatever this feeling is, whatever your body is telling you, it’s absolutely real. Just like my heart.” She nodded in agreement while he continued his thought. “And if they don’t, that shouldn’t stop you from accepting who you are.” He pointed directly at her heart.

“My dad hates people like me though. It’s not something he’ll easily accept.”

“Then move on.” She was shocked at his blunt response. “Don’t ever forget it’s your life that you’re living. If they want to be in your life, they’ll show they care. They’ll be supportive, or they lose an amazing opportunity to meet a very beautiful person.” The Moth spoke honestly. “Either way, someone will love you for who you are. You just gotta keep looking.”

The Moth quickly stood up from the chair and his fluffy antenna began to move. “Uh oh, I think I might have to go.” His ears kept twitching as his head tilted. “I think Yellowstone is about to erupt again.”

The young woman stood up. “Again?”

He let out an annoyed sigh, “You humans always forget my best work. It really is a thankless job.”

“Well thank you.” She said without hesitation. “This was a lot of information, but I’ll try my best.” They walked outside the shed together. “I may not know what I want to do, but I know what I don’t want to do, and that’s being someone I’m not.”

The Moth clapped with glee. “Ten out of ten, amazing work!” He loved when people would get it. “Now please stand back, it’s about to get super dusty.”

He bent his knees and buzzed his wings. With a thumbs up and a superhero’s demeanor, he looked towards the young woman. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” Within a second he was in the air. He fluttered over the shed and began to ascend to the full moon. The young woman waved goodbye to him. The dust from his mint fur created an aurora of green light in the night sky. As the glitter traveled behind him, he spelled “The End,” in sparkled green cursive. The young woman laughed at what she believed was satire, and headed back home with a gleam of green in her eyes.