Fire flies in a jar


Perhaps it was what went through Napoleon’s mind or Emperor Ashoka’s ; that feeling of victory , of conquering a place thought unconquerable before. The sky was dark except for the moon flanked by clouds. The wind was mellow, the grass stood dazed at the fire flies fluttering above. I walked cat-like, holding my breath lest I frighten them away ; a glass jar in my hands ready to capture the embers on wings. The flies zigzagged unaware of my presence behind. They played on , Uncle Moon watched on happily like a Grandfather observing his grandkids. I neared them ; was it because of concern, I know not, the cloud shielded his face and the flies where trapped inside my glass jar. A triumphant smile spread across my lips. I felt like an Empress. They kept flying round and round scared ; their lights shone bright now that the sky was a blank canvas. I looked on at the beautiful things, the flag I planted in another country. The wind had stopped the trees and grass awaited with bated breath. Would their hearts thump – thump like ours do when we are scared? The flies hit the glass desperate to get out. I slowly turned the lid and out flew they, savoring each flap of their wings. I watched the happy reunion as the Moon came out of hiding , thanking me for setting them free. The fire flies roamed the meadow and the Moon watched on.



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