a moth to the flame / fireflyz

[k!ah]

e v i e .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

Darla was drunk. Her clothes scattered along the beach as she danced and swayed with anyone and everyone, her lips pull back in a wide grin. I watched for a moment, knees curled my my chest as I took a sip of the beer that had started to go flat. She was the life of the party, her laughter contagious, her presences like a light, and the rest of us moths, drawn to it. I liked to think that one day I may be as carefree as her. That one day I might left my hair down, strip to mu underwear and dance be right beside her, body warmed by the booze that blowed through my veins.

I had plans tonight, to let loose, to take that one step slower to becoming the light, instead of the moth. I hadn't even put up my usual fight when she came running up to me this morning, buzzing with excitement about our plans tonight. Usually she would have to drag me kicking and screaming to an event such as this... But this morning I had wanted to be the life of the party. To lose myself to the music, to the fire, to the alcohol.

But I sit here alone, away from the crowd, watching, like the outsider I knew that I was. But I never really minded about being the outsider. It was peaceful, if not sometimes, a little lonely.

Sighing I lay back onto the sand, eyes staring up at the clear sky that danced with small twinkling lights. Not a cloud in sight, the moon shone brightly, lighting up the shoreline. Reflections of moonlight danced along the water, as it swayed the the pull of gravity. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing into the shore was almost like a lullaby. Signing me to sleep, mother nature tempted me to close my eyes, to allow sleeps kind touch to guide me into the land of dreams.

I never did get my chance for a nap earlier today.

The sounds of the bonfire fades until it is just me and the ocean. A gentle breeze kisses the skin of my cheeks and I smile, feeling the pull of exhaustion. Maybe I should head home now, just sneak away, no one would notice- well, Darla would, but I could apologise in the morning.

Forcing my eyes open I roll my head to the side. Instantly my eyes are drawn to her, a moth to a light. She's dancing, drink in hand, flirtatious smile on lip. Maybe one day I would be able to smile like that, hips swaying, eyes seductive. Maybe one day I would be able to share some of her light.

elegant

[fireflyz]

Whitney should've known better.

The last party she'd attended had left her vomiting into the trash-filled bushes outside Kyle's house, her mouth somehow tasting even less pungent than it had when she had downed the alcohol in the first place. Stomach throbbing, she'd taken a few shaky steps forward before crumpling onto the ground. She'd shrieked that her heel was broken, these shoes cost so much money, there was no way she could get home, what on earth was she going to do? Eventually, a brave soul drifted up and informed her that the heel of her shoe was not, in fact, broken, and that she just needed to stand up. Vision blurry, Whitney climbed to her feet, wincing as she placed weight on her ankle. She did not offer a thank you, but instead removed her heels and limped back home. That should have been enough to deter her from going to any parties ever again.

But when an invitation found its way into her manicured fingers, the words instantly wormed their way into her memory. And when the night of the party came, she put on her nicest trainers - not heels, to prevent another rolled ankle fiasco - a light sweater and some shorts, and she ventured out to the beach. The moment she saw the bonfire stretching its fingers up to the horizon, Whitney knew that she should've known better.

She shifted in her trainers, feeling the soft terrain beneath her feet. She supposed she'd learned something from Kyle's trash party.

It wasn't cramped. The air was fresh. Her drink went down smooth, not like something she'd throw up later - or if she did, at least it wouldn't be terrible - and she actually felt at ease. Whitney held her cup gingerly above her head as she swayed to the music, a gentle breeze tousling her hair. Everything was perfect.

There was a brief lull, and Whitney brought her cup down to her mouth to drink. Over the rim, she could see the silhouette of someone lying on the beach, hair blending in with the sand. Whitney raised an eyebrow, placing her hand over the width of her cup and striding across the sand. As she neared, she could see that it was a girl, one she had seen before but couldn't place a name to. What's she doing?

Soon she was hovering over the girl, peering down at her supine form.

"Are you too drunk to stand or something?" Whitney quipped, lifting her cup to her mouth once more and nibbling at the rim.

423

[k!ah]

e v i e .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

Sighing I turn away, the light too bright. The world spun slightly, the twinkling stars moving too fast. I hated that I felt envious of Darla, I knew that it was wrong, that I should not feel this way about my sister. But sometimes I couldn't stop the feelings that bubbled up from deep within, so I bottle them away, hiding them for a day when maybe I'll be able to toss them away, content with who I am.

"Are you too drunk to stand or something?" The voice comes from above me and I turn my head to see a girl looking down at me, her dark hair shining in the light of the moon. Rolling to my side I force myself into a seated position, the sand that clung to my clothing falling from its place, some sneaking into the creases and opening in my dress, uncomfortable against my skin caught between my bathers.

The girl brings her cup to her lips, nibbling on its rim as her eyes surveyed me. Something about her was familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I knew her from. Nervously I wipe at the remaining sand that clung to my arms. Social situations always made me nervous, finding the right words a struggle as I choke on them, trying to construct a coherent sentence without sounding like a dumb idiot.

"Drunk? Me? Nope. Not really," the words come out as choppy, and sward, eyes jumping from her eyes to the cup at her lips and back again. Hold eye contact, that's what Darla would tell her. Smile, be confident Eves. Taking a sip of my flat beer I try to summon my courage, using the time to try and form a sentence. "Just needed some space, do you want to sit?" Smile, I pull my lips into a wide grin, gesturing to the space beside me.

"Evie Harlot- that's me- you know, my name."

Way to go Evie. You sound like a fool.

elegant/graphic:cass