The Boy And The Fireflies – A Children’s Story

Even though it was night, the young boy had an urge to get out of bed.

A strong urge.

A pull from the cosmos.

He snuck out from under his covers and pitter-padded down the hallway dimly lit by the moon coming in from the skylight.

His little one piece footy pajamas made him stealthy on the hard wood floors.

The boy made it to the back door. He could see the meadow not far from behind his house. The overgrown grass and dandelions made it a perfect home for the hundreds of lights twinkling between the blades of foliage.

The boy’s nose was pressed against the screen door as he watched in fascination of the firefly’s light show, up and down, back and forth, here and there.

The boy looked back over his shoulder. The house remained quiet. He could barely hear his father’s snores behind the big oak bedroom door somewhere far to the left of him.

Unable to resist, he slowly unlatched the back door, ever so quietly, and slipped out into the backyard.

The night air smelled of flowers. The full moon shone brightly on the field, but not too brightly, just enough to  make it easy for the boy to see the path that lead to the fireflies.

He carefully made his way there, taking extra caution to make sure the padded feet of his pajamas didn’t cause him to slip and fall.

When he reached the edge of the meadow, he grabbed the tallest blade of grass before him, and looked back at his house one more time. All was quiet and still. No one had woken yet, to catch  him on this midnight adventure.

The boy raised his arms above his head and ran into the field without a care. The fireflies were at first disturbed by this new presence. They went shooting into the air…hundreds of them…no millions of them! But then they soon settle back on their regular flight paths, glowing and dancing.

It was like the universe and all it’s stars fell to Earth and landed in this meadow…and boy held his arms up and twirled in circles.

As the boy was dancing, and as the fireflies were twinkling, an accident happened.

The boy didn’t mean to do it.

He really didn’t.

It was an accident after all.

One of the fireflies got smashed between the boy’s fingers. The boy stared at the twitching body of the firefly. A single tear formed in his eye and he cried out into the field,

“I’m sorry…it was an accident! I’m so sorry!”

And the fireflies continued to dance, and fly, and shine their light as if to say,

“It’s alright, little boy. Dance your dance. Just be careful.”

And the boy felt better.

And the boy laughed a little.

A happy, gleeful laugh.

A happy, gleeful, joyous laugh.

He looked at his fingers again where the dead firefly lay. His fingers glowed in the night from the firefly’s luminescence.

The boy thought,

“I could be a firefly too. I can be dancing and flying and shine in the night!”

Then the boy started mashing fireflies between his hands. He grabbed and smashed all that he could. His fingers glowed with the fireflies glow.

The fireflies were scared, and tried to scatter. It was a firefly genocide.

That didn’t stop the boy. He killed hundreds of them. He  spread their light all over his hands and arms. He ripped off his pajamas and spread the glow over his chest, legs, face, and pee-pee.

The boy glowed like a firefly.

“I’m a firefly! I’m free to dance and glow!” the boy screamed.

And he did. He danced and smashed even more fireflies..until the King of the Fireflies suddenly emerged from the brush.

The King  stood over nine feet tall, and wore a bandoleer. The King’s glow shone brighter than a thousand suns. The boy had to hold his hands to his eyes and could barely make out the King in front of him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY FIREFLIES, BITCH!” boomed the King. “NEVER MIND, I CAN SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING FOR MYSELF!”

And the King of the Fireflies ate the boy and spit out his bones, and made soup out of them. The fireflies then had little stupid boy soup which was their favorite.

The End