This is probably my favorite flash fiction from my writing vault. I wrote this for an
undergrad writing class and getting to read it in front of all my fellow writers was an
enlivening experience. Part of what made it fun was the accent. When I read this story,
the child's voice has a very distinct southern accent, something that I have had off and
on through my youth. You may know someone like this, or perhaps this is you, but
there are sounds and voices that we just mimic - getting caught up in their sounds and
they just flow out naturally when they fit the moment.
So, if you can, imagine a southern drawl as you read.
Glowbutts
Mommy calls them fireflies.
Daddy calls them lightning bugs.
I’m not really sure yet. I don’t want to choose between them. They argue so often that I
want to help them settle one thing. If I can make them agree on one thing, then maybe they
won’t be so mad at each other.
People glow when they’re happy. That’s what mommy and daddy told me a long time ago.
They aren’t glowing right now.
Mommy is yelling at daddy and they don’t notice as I slip outside.
The backyard is a small square of grass with one lonely tree. It’s cooler now and I wonder
if mommy and daddy will cool down too. Maybe they just need time. Maybe they just need
to sit in the grass like me. The grass is wet and short, but I lay in it anyway. I’m waiting
for the bugs. The sky is darkening like a bruise and then I’ll see them. They like to come
when it’s nearly dark. They flit and flicker with their yellow lights. They dance and play
together.
Mommy and daddy used to both come outside with me. They used to play together.
They used to tell me about happy things.
Maybe they just need to remember. I run back inside and they don’t notice as I grab a jar
from the cabinet. The bugs are out, or are they flies? Either way, they’re glowing and
sending messages into the night.
It’s like the stars came down to flicker amongst the grass. I watch carefully and then…
One.
Two.
I hold my breath as I screw the lid on tight.
Two of my very own. Now I’ll be able to tell if they’re fireflies or lightning bugs.
I stay up late. Way past my bedtime. Mommy and daddy forgot to tuck me in, but it’s okay.
They’ll remember a lot once I tell them what these flying things are.
Their yelling carries up the stairs and to my room. The jar warms under my hands. Happiness,
I think. My room is in darkness, but I have two stars between my fingers. It’s not scary when
you have two lights that wink at you and tell you that you are not alone.
Fireflies. I test the word on my tongue. They don’t really look like fire. Up close they’re dark
little bodies are just...weird. I watch them until my eyes are heavy. They don’t glow so
much anymore. Their happiness must be leaving. Outside they could be described as lightning,
but now...not even close.
I don’t think either of those names are right. They aren’t fireflies and they aren’t lightning bugs.
So maybe I’ll give them a name.
Maybe mommy and daddy can agree on something that I give them.
I am quiet. I am soft-footed as I go to the door. They aren’t happy because they’re trapped.
Names and places are heavy. That’s what my glowing friends show me.
Happiness is hard when you’re stuck.
I’ve got a new name for my friends.
It’s a good name too.
A name that feels right when I let them go and watch them fly away into the night.
The perfect name.
They’re glowbutts.
