by Kathy Fish
The woman who came to pick up the bags of clothes seemed like she wanted more than clothes from us. That was what I'd told Greg later, that she had hungry eyes and that made him laugh. But she did have hungry eyes and long hair the color of whiskey and a way of touching her face when she talked. And Greg asked later why did we let her in? She came in a beat up Datsun. She probably took those clothes for herself. Why'd we let her in? And I reminded him that we got to talking about the moths in the basement and the woman wanted to see.
So we took her down and there they were, hundreds of them, bright green, fluttering around. Greg had thought if we turned out the light and left the sliding door open they would simply fly away, but they stayed. I sat on the top step and watched the woman go down and stand in the middle of the room, raising her hands as if to touch them and I half expected the moths to lift the ends of her hair, the hem of her skirt, and fly away with her.
These are luna moths, the woman said. Do you have a walnut tree? And we said yeah, out there, pointing to the back yard. She said they're mating, they'll mate all night long. Greg wanted to know what then and the woman said they rest. How do we get them out of here, I asked from the step and the woman said, oh they'll just die. They only live a week, their journey is a short one. And I stood and said I'd go and get those bags and it seemed like she'd forgotten all about them.
One of the moths flew directly into Greg's face and he batted at it, saying fuck, fuck. The woman put her finger to her lips, shushing him, like oh no don't swear in front of the pretty bugs and we got pissed all over again remembering it later, like how dare she. She said words get embedded in a place, they settle into the walls and furniture like ghosts, to which Greg said horseshit and the woman said are you afraid of strange ideas and Greg said no, I'm afraid of strange people and we smirked at each other then because we seriously wanted this Moth Woman out of our basement and finally she put her arms down and came upstairs and carted away the bags of clothes in her crappy little car.
The next morning I went down to the basement, and just as the woman had said, the moths had all died. At first I didn't realize. At first I thought everything, the floor, the furniture, the shelves, was covered in thick, green leaves.
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Another beautiful story, Kathy, thank you.
Some minor things:
Perhaps: "That was what I’d told Greg later, AND that she had hungry eyes. (and) That made him laugh.
I loved this: "But she did have hungry eyes and long hair the color of whiskey and a way of touching her face when she talked."
Again, I loved this: "raising her hands as if to touch them and I half expected the moths to lift the ends of her hair, the hem of her skirt, and fly away with her."
In the sentence "Greg wanted to know ...."perhaps change to "Greg "ASKED what then" on my first read this sentence tripped me up?
"One of the moths flew directly into Greg’s face and he batted at it, saying fuck, fuck. The woman put her finger to her lips, shushing him, like oh no don’t swear in front of the pretty bugs and we got pissed all over again remembering it later, like how dare she. She said words get embedded in a place, they settle into the walls and furniture like ghosts, to which Greg said horseshit and the woman said are you afraid of strange ideas and Greg said no, I’m afraid of strange people and we smirked at each other then ..." Again just great writing. However, their reaction, that "they got pissed again later" surprised me. Not that it didn't ring true necessarily, it surprised. I expected them to laugh about her later, that's all. Surprise in story is always good, and what I infer from their anger is that she really struck a chord by calling them on their fear :-)
"At first I didn’t realize. At first I thought everything, the floor, the furniture, the shelves, was covered in thick, green leaves." A wonderful ending.
I was left wondering what these multiple deaths would do to the walls of his home, to its spirit, and ultimately to this couple. I wonder if a different title could underscore that ominous idea some?
Again, thank you.
Oh thanks so much for the close read, Ethel. You've really got me thinking now, especially as to where to go from here and also, the title. I'm in your debt. Thank you.
i thought the title could be a play on the immortal elizabeth bishop poem, The Man-Moth....
The image of the moths is captivating. Lunas are a spectacular moth. I could have only hoped you would have added one or two lines painting them more clearly. Like so many things whose lives are short they live exceedingly bright. Enjoyed.
Larry
this is great, kathy, per the usual. can you not always be so great?
Gary, I really like that idea, for the title. Thanks!
Larry, yes, aren't they stunning? I will do as you suggest.
David...jeez. Thanks.
That opening paragraph just grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go. You must read on.You are invested as a reader immediately. And that indicates to me great writing.Just perfectly beautiful from beginning to end. A+ AND THEN SOME.
what a great first sentence. and i really like how you use "and" here, for instance, the stringing together of a long description of this woman. man. maybe something about that last graph needs tweaked, maybe not, i'm divided on it. either way, excellent.
thanks for reading it and giving your thoughts, Darryl and Alan!
Oh I remember this one. I might be repeating myself, since I know I wrote you about it before - It's whispery and beautiful. The moths remind me of your elm trees. I like how nature creeps into your domestic stories. This has just the right touch of mystery and haunting.
thanks Claudia!
Oh, this is amazing and feels like it came out unafraid, unfutzed with. I like the narrator's retelling, a way to admit and apologize and be humbled.
I can't be quite as analytical as the others-I'm just taken with this and while reading, I was worrying about a last line, an image to pay off, top all the earlier magic, and how you were going to get out. Those dead moth leaves did it. Wow.
Pia and James, thanks so much for the read and your kind comments.
Kathy,
Characters acting badly and judgmentally intrigue me, especially in their tossed-off dialogue, their defensiveness. Very nice final image, which serves them right, really.
:-)
--Richard
"long hair the color of whiskey"
the entire 4th paragraph is a delight
the ending a bit abrupt though, with the last sentence beginning with "At first. . ."
Nice. I love the last image in particular.I love the descriptions of the moth woman. If there was one tiny thing I craved it was to see the main couple a bit more--maybe let the garments they wore paint the contrast and bring in a tiny bit more color. (This would be a sentence or two, of course, tiny touches!) Such an interestingly hostile relationship they have with the woman. Glad I came to read this, Kathy! :) xo, H
thanks so much for reading, Heather!
you always do such gorgeous things with so few words. that last image of the leaves is absolutely perfect.
the only thing i might suggest is to cut "... and just as the woman had said, the moths had all died." I think the imagery without reference back to the woman would speak more subtly to the narrator's newfound consciousness of the woman's humanity.
really, really lovely.
Memorable and lingering. I admire the link through 'otherness' of the woman/moths and the way that's counterpointed against the cramped, domestic cynicism of the couple. The only line that stuck out for me was: 'and it seemed like she'd forgotten all about them.' - because that felt implicit already.
Oh, I just love it.
Thanks, everyone, for the read and helpful suggestions!
I know these people and I want to befriend the moth woman - beautiful.
magic.
Stunning. I wouldn't change a word.
Thanks for finding this story and reading it, James. I really appreciate the kind words!
Loved this - “and the woman said are you afraid of strange ideas” - and the ending like green leaves. Just great!
So pleased to get more reads on this one. Thanks so much, Kari!
Love the weird magic here, Kathy!
Oh it's nice to have an "old" one looked up, read, and faved, Terry. Thanks very much!
I like this a lot. The hungry eyes captivated me, and then the story never let go.
Ah but yes. Such a great story in so few words. The power of fuck can go a long way. And the line "hair the color of whiskey" is damn fantastic.
Beate and Jeffrey, thanks so much for finding this one, the kind words and faves!