I STARED WIDE-EYED. INSIDE HIS SHIRT, A GLOWING WHITE LIGHT WAS BEAMING STRONG AND BRIGHT. “OH, MY GOD!” I THOUGHT. I WAS AFRAID HE FOUND OUR FUEL BOTTLE AND DRANK IT THINKING IT WAS WATER AND NOW HIS INSIDES WERE BURNING UP. WHAT AN AWFUL WAY TO GO.
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SUMMARY: THE STORY SO FAR…
Josiah, a young slave 12 years of age, lives in a cabin in the slave quarters of a Virginia tobacco plantation with Auntie Bee, Mose, the plantation handyman, two young children, Randall and Emily. He notices Mose leaving the cabin in the middle of the night and follows him to his secret workshop in the woods where Mose is building some sort of strange contraption. Mose tells him it is a machine that will fly him to freedom. Now that he knows Mose’s secret, he stays to help build the flier. After mishaps, false starts and setbacks—the flier tumbles down the mountain and is seriously damaged—they are attacked by snakes—mountain lions lurk all around them—they realize someone has been spying on them and they think their escape plan has been discovered. Finally, their time has come. Now they are in the air, riding on the wings of the wind.
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I was thoroughly enjoying the moment when Randall straightened up, alarmed. His hand was in his shirt pocket, feeling around for something. This time I sensed real trouble. The look of panic on his face told me I had better see what he had in there before the situation got out of control.
I didn’t say anything, just reached for his pocket and this time, he didn’t resist. I was about to slip my hand in when—quickly, reflexively, I pulled back as suddenly as if I’d been bitten by a snapping turtle. I could not believe what I saw.
I stared wide-eyed. Inside his shirt, a glowing white light was beaming strong and bright. Then, just as suddenly, it disappeared.
“Oh, my God!” I thought, “What did that boy do?” I was afraid he found our fuel bottle and tried to drink it, thinking it was water and now his insides were burning up. What an awful way to go.
It happened again. His chest lit up with a brilliant flash. Then it went out.
I blinked. What did I just see?
The light went on and off. Then a moment later, on and off. I watched dumbfounded, as it kept lighting and switching off, on and off, on and off.
Emily was greatly amused by the blinking light in Randall’s chest. She giggled and cooed in a joyful expression of utter delight.
“What is that?” I asked him. This time I was dead serious.
Randall looked sheepishly at his pocket. I guess our scuffle knocked the fight out of him because he reached in and pulled out something to show me.
It was a ratty old cloth all tied in knots. He was holding the twisted rag in his hand when it began glowing again, a brilliant white light. Then it stopped. A moment later it glowed and again it stopped.
Randall undid the knot slowly. With great care he pulled back the edges of the cloth. There, in his hand, was the source of this mysterious light. Bugs. About a dozen of them, their tiny bodies crushed and crumpled, were lying dead in his hand. Except one. This bug was very
much alive. Every few moments he announced his presence to the world by flashing his own shimmering glow.
“My fireflies!” Randall cried, horrified at the carnage in his hand.
Randall lifted his brave survivor out of the cloth and held him tenderly in his palm. The little bugger was resting comfortably while we watched him shining on and off. The tiny creature looked for all the world like a precious jewel who could not be more proud of his earthly existence.
“He’s alive, all right,” I said. “I don’t know how he made it but he’s here.”
Randall let me pick the little thing up and I laid him gently in my hand. He responded by shining brilliantly for a long moment before turning again into a plain black bug.
“Don’t hurt him,” Randall said.
“You don’t have to worry. This here is a brave little fellow. You tried your best to get him. You rolled him up and you crushed him. I think when you and I fought, that’s what probably killed all his friends. It’s a miracle he’s still with us.”
I have never seen a sadder child in my life. Randall stared mournfully at his one surviving bug, distressed that the others in his collection were lost.
“What you gonna do with him?” Randall asked. “Will you throw him away?”
“Oh, no! This bug wants his freedom just like us. Ain’t nothing going to stop him, either.”
Randall liked that. He smiled and Emily laughed.
“He’s coming with us,” I told him. “When we get down on the ground, we’ll let him out in the grass. Then he’ll be free like us. I just hope we can keep him alive till then.”
I reached for Auntie Bee’s basket, empty but for a few crumbs at the bottom and I laid our friend inside.
Randall was pleased that his glow bug was being treated so royally. And Emily, she was always happy. I never saw her when she wasn’t the picture of joy.
Night fell over us and we watched the basket glow. The firefly kept lighting up over and over again, until it went dark and would not light any more.
“What should we call him?” Randall asked.
I thought for a moment. “Well, he sure is a brave little critter. He stayed with us through thick and thin. This one really wants his freedom and we have to make sure he gets there with us. We got to give him a name.”
I was stumped. How do you name a bug?
“I know!” Randall cried out excitedly. “It’s Auntie Bee!”
We all liked that. Emily squealed in delight and I applauded. We all wanted Auntie Bee along with us. Of course, we knew she couldn’t be here, really. But if she could not be with us in person, at least she could be with us in spirit. That was the real Auntie Bee anyway. The most important part of her was always her warm and wonderful spirit. And now we had her indomitable light and love riding with us.
Randall picked up the basket and pressed it to his chest. Every once in a while he would peek inside to see if his bug was alright. He pressed the basket to his cheek, hugging it, holding it close all night long. And he fell asleep that way.
Posted By: Richard Kigel
Friday, June 18th 2010 at 12:29PM
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