The Man, The Myth, The Moth

I’m afraid of the dark

But maybe that’s not the place to start.

I love the Moon, I always have and always will

It’s silent and bright and keeps the dark at bay,

Except for when it’s dark too

But I don’t grudge it that, because I understand the need to recharge

Alone

That’s the thing about the dark

It’s always alone.

Except that it’s not

It’s teeming with life – well not life, but the idea of the complement of life

Not death, just

Ideas

And What-If’s

And thoughts that can’t be said

And thoughts that should be said, but won’t

I think that everyone is a little bit afraid of the dark

Not that they say it

They think it’s childish

I still don’t see why childish is a bad thing

But really, they’re all a little childish too

Even if they’ll never admit it

I don’t think they even realize

But you know how I know they’re still childish too?

Because of the stories

There are always stories.

Stories of what happens at night – of Witching Hour and Aliens and Vampires and Creatures

and creatures and creatures

Oh, and aliens

And because of Mothman

A Very Serious Threat to a small rural town

They see It in the dark

And they are afraid of It

Yet they don’t even know what It is

And they say my fear of the dark is irrational

Well so is theirs

But they’ll never admit it

They would rather say it’s the monsters

But there are no monsters here

Besides the ones we create

I’ve always loved the Moon, but the Moon loves to hide

So I learned to adjust to the dark

In more ways than one

I think it’s a skill more people could use

I keep my light with me and I know

That there are no monsters here

Besides the ones we create.

They call It Mothman

A moth the size of the man

Quite literally my worst nightmare

I hate moths

I don’t really know what they fear from It though

Mothman

Does he break your lamps?

They say It has glowing red eyes – clearly a sign of evil

I don’t mention that cameras have that too

They like having something to blame their fear on

No one tries to fight it – they just run

And run and run and run

From It (from themselves)

(There are no monsters besides the ones we create)

Then someone does try to fight it

The darkness is hiding his barn

He does not see, but he sees clearly enough to shoot

To shoot at the glowing red eyes

It is a barn owl

Not just any barn owl

Mothman is gone, and so is the owl

The stories have not stopped

They say He’s still out there now

A different entity entirely

No one’s ever seen Him – Mothman

Just the It

There are no monsters

Besides the ones we create.