Prompt 3454
A moth the color of darkness flew through the only source of
light and into his face before receding clumsily back into that darkness.
My wings
were white once. But I was born once
too, and both of these are barely memories I can claim as my own. I suppose there was a time when they were
crisp and new, but now they are ragged, torn, and darkened. They say that it’s a slow fade into darkness,
but I can't seem to remember the light.
I don’t
remember it, but I recognized it when I saw it.
I saw someone the color of the light once. He was striking and beautiful, with wings
like new linens spreading proudly behind him.
I ached to draw near, to bask in that light. I longed to be warmed by his
presence.
But who
was I? I could not approach as I
was. So I painted my wings white, that I
would not stand out, and worked up the courage to draw near to him. I was clumsy, but I was forgiven. Forgiveness was sweet on my ragged soul. And for a moment in time, I was content. I did not look for happiness, only
contentment.
Then
came the rain, and it washed away my snowy façade. Those surrounding the light began to shun and to mock, as I knew they would. They saw my wings for what they were, they saw me as I am. I did not belong there, clad as I was. I did not deserve to be content.
So my sopping wings brought me back to the darkness that was no friend to me, and it was there I decided to stay.
But there in the dark, the light drew near to me. When he saw my wings would not carry me home, he picked me up in his. I pushed him away, not deserving of this grace, but he drew me close and whispered truth in my ear. It was not for the white-winged angels he came, but to seek and to save those who were lost in the dark.
But there in the dark, the light drew near to me. When he saw my wings would not carry me home, he picked me up in his. I pushed him away, not deserving of this grace, but he drew me close and whispered truth in my ear. It was not for the white-winged angels he came, but to seek and to save those who were lost in the dark.
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ReplyDeleteI keep thinking this is going to turn into a Christian parable, but those don't typically end leaving the Pilgrim in Despair and Darkness.
ReplyDeleteTrue. But in the end, I found that I needed this story to be a "to be continued," type of thing. Because this light that I saw, this autobiographical person, was not my Lord and Savior, but someone I hoped would save me. I placed my trust in the wrong thing.
ReplyDeleteOnce souls, light, forgiveness, and white wings enter the story, the writer is inescapably in the realm of Christian allegory or parable. Those genres have their conventions and the writer is bound by them, like it or not. So, if we get to the end of the allegory and the protagonist has found a home in the darkness, the reader is pretty much left with this interpretation: the light has failed or has burned her wings, and the writer is expressing the unsatisfactory nature of her relationship with the light. In my opinion, that's what you've done here. But there's no way that the reader will interpret the light as a false light, despite the silliness of moths generally. We take it as a commentary on humankind's relationship with God.
ReplyDeleteBut I suspect that isn't your intent here or your belief generally.
So, if you accept my critique, is it fixable? Allegories are very delicate to work with--the fear is always that they become schematic, topheavy, mechanical, and didactic. I almost think the allegorist has to work in a bit of a trance, lest the material have too much brain, not enough heart. At this point, I think your allegory owns none of the four adjectives above, but:
Short answer to my question above: no idea.
You're right, it was wrong. Hopefully this is a bit better.
ReplyDeleteYep, that works now as Christian allegory and the touch is light and the added material is not tonally different than what goes before.
ReplyDeleteBut all this at the expense of wearing your heart on your sleeve in a shrouded way...that's not there any more. You could go back to the original and back way off on the religious motifs and symbolism and reinsert the 'wrong thing' autobiographical person.
I'm smiling at myself for being such a teacher. Here you are writing to express something important, and I'm thinking what a neat technical exercise it is to try it first one way and then another. Ignore me!
I like it this way.
ReplyDeleteI could probably take some of those key words out, tweak the story a bit, and get it to the correct form of the original, but I think this is the story to tell with the material I have.
Oh, and also - I like this piece when it stands alone. Without the prompt it doesn't seem quite as cheesy I think.
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