The Fireflies
Valkyrie
For as long as I can remember, my feet wouldn’t carry me over when I stepped up to the boundary line between the city and the woods. An eerie trepidation would stop me and tell me to turn around. Go back to the safety of the city lights. I always listened until that night.
I spent hours at the bar wallowing in my misery. With a glass of whiskey, I drowned my humiliation until I went out back to get some air. There was a field of fireflies behind the bar that was too alluring to resist. I moved towards them, studying their movements. They danced in the sky, lighting up the flowers in the field. I watched them pair up and go home to their little firefly houses. Once back home, I imagined they had a dinner date and drank some wine before turning in for the day. In whatever fireflies consider a bed, they cuddled until the next evening when they would go dancing together again. A ritual they would repeat until they grew old together and were laid to rest.
For what seemed like an eternity, I watched them, jealous. Even watching fireflies reminded me of how undesirable I must be. My date had stood me up, and that didn’t even happen to a single firefly.
What did I expect? I took home a perfect stranger and gave him exactly what he wanted. Being stood up aside, if soul mates were real, I would have sworn he was mine.
I could never be done with you. His words echoed in my head. A lie I was happy to enjoy for as long as I lived. I closed my eyes, trying to rid my memory of those electric blue eyes. Eyes like that you always remember. They bore into your soul and make your toes curl in your boots. I had never seen eyes like that before and knew I never would again.
How did I even get this drunk? I wondered as I slowly moved through the grass. It was just one drink, and my mind was swimming. Well, two, if you count the glass of wine I had at home before going to the bar, but that was hours before I even went out. That wasn’t enough, was it?
Did someone put something in my drink? That couldn’t be what happened. My friend Josh was the bartender and wouldn’t drug me. No one else was near me at the bar, were they? I ran through the night in my head, trying to remember.
“How long are you going to wait for this asshole?” Josh put a drink in front of me and studied me carefully. He seemed jealous. Angry that I had a date at all. There had never been more between us, so it didn’t feel like an appropriate reaction from him.
“Not sure.” I smiled, thanking him for the drink.
“Who is he anyway?” Something flashed on his face as if he knew the answer. Something I’m sure I imagined.
“No one, apparently,” I mumbled at him and downed half the liquid.
Josh had a boyish charm about him, and if we lived near the ocean, you would think that he was a surfer with how blonde his hair was. His hazel eyes were soft, and he had a smile that got him a lot of tips. I had seen him many times without his shirt on for one reason or another, and his abs were very clearly defined, as were his arms and legs. He was lean, like a fighter. And that was because he was one. We took classes together at the local MMA gym. It’s where we met. I pinned him a few times, but he was stronger than me by far. I always wondered if he liked me if I was honest with myself. Often, I caught him staring at me, but he never said anything. I figured he thought I was a mess and funny to watch. I mean, look at my current situation. It was comical that I believed I was in love after one night. Well, maybe not in love, but definitely in lust. Besides, I had known Josh for a year, and he never made a move. If he liked me, he would have done so by now.
I shrugged and downed the rest of the drink. It warmed me down my throat to my stomach. The warmth spread throughout my body as the liquid hit my veins.
I like the challenge. I thought of my mystery man’s words when he spoke of whiskey. I agreed with him. It was a fun challenge to drink this fire water. I wished I had asked him his name and didn’t accept the apparent alias. Justin. What the fuck type of name even is that for such a gorgeous man?
Thinking about him made my body feel hot. At first, the heat was lovely, and then it felt like lava was running through my veins.
“You alright?” Josh looked me up and down.
“Just have to pee,” I told him, jumping down from my barstool. I am short, so it was a bit of a drop.
“Don’t you always?” He laughed, and I bolted to the bathroom. Out of pure luck, one of the three toilets was free. It was labeled men’s, but it was a single stall, and no one was in line, so I went for it.
I turned the facet to the coldest setting and splashed my face multiple times with water, forgetting about my makeup. Then I ran my arms under the sink, feeling my skin cool off. Taking too many paper towels, I dried off my arms. As I did, I realized my dress was soaked from my effort to decrease my body temperature and tossed the paper towels. It was a useless effort at this point to dry off.
You are so wet. He had told me. I felt embarrassed at the time but knew it had turned him on. He practically drank the juices that ran down my leg. I shook the memory away. It only made me feel hotter thinking about it.
I moved to dry my face and did my best not to ruin my makeup completely. I mostly failed, but at least I didn’t look like a drowned rat. After I peed and washed my hands, I felt hot again. It must have been the bar. It was crowded, and the smell was becoming offensive. I snuck out the back door into the woods to clear my head and cool down.
Yup. Just one drink. I couldn’t remember anyone else sitting with me or approaching me. My conclusion had to be I was a lightweight in fighting and also in drinking. All that said, I was growing increasingly concerned about how I was going to get home if I was this drunk. I barely remembered where home was.
The stars were hidden behind the moon’s light, giving the grass a beautiful metallic hue. The color made me want to lie down and roll around in it. My senses seemed heightened here, and everything hit me with full force. Especially how everything smelled. The flowers, the grass, and something else. Whatever it was, the source was far away. It reminded me of these candles I like that were amber and vanilla-scented. But it was as if someone poured the wax on a pine tree and lit it on fire.
I wanted to capture that smell and wrap myself in a blanket to hold it around me. That was a place where I could die happy. It made me feel something else as well—a feeling of safety, love, and lust. I had only ever felt that feeling one other time, and it made me wonder if he was here or if I was hallucinating. But that’s not what he had smelled like. He smelled like roasting marshmallows over a fire. The wood burning was maple, and the memory of that sweet and smokey smell made me even hotter. I couldn’t help but run my hands down my body to try to calm the storm inside me.
At that moment, I was confident that someone had managed to slip something into my drink. Did I take my eyes off of it before I downed it? Allowing someone the opportunity to do something? Did Josh take his eyes off of it when he was pouring? I had not drank that many times, so it could simply be this is how it felt. If it was, I could see why people become alcoholics.
I moved towards the scent, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Whatever it was, I had to know. Before I could reach it, I felt like my skin was burning. As if someone had injected fire into my blood and it was trying to work its way out. I dropped to my knees, attempting to get closer to the Earth that felt cool under my feet.
Damnit. My shoes were missing. I took them off and forgot to get them before running out of the bar. I liked those boots. They were my only comfortable pair. Hopefully, Josh would spot them and take them home for me. He knew I loved them.
Lying down felt so lovely, so I resolved to stay there until this hot flash stopped. All the medication they gave me messed up my hormones, so it was not the first time this had happened. It usually passes quickly, but this time, it didn’t. The pain was unbearable, and I had to fight not to cry out. It didn’t feel safe to make a sound out here.
“Just breathe…” I coached myself. Then I heard the voice that I tried so hard to silence. It whispered, ‘Get up, you stupid bitch. Mate is here. You look weak.’
“Shh…” I begged Kassandra. That’s what the voice told me was her name. I joked with her when I was younger that it was fitting since Kassandra brought all the accurate prophecies that no one ever believed. Well, call me Apollo because I was about to discover how right Kassandra had always been.
I hated it when she called me weak. I worked so hard to be as strong as I could and regularly slammed grown men to the ground in my classes. In a few weeks, I would graduate with my master’s degree, and I have always taken care of myself. I had to do all of this mostly alone. My mother went crazy when I was pretty young, and I only spent time with her in the hospital, where she is to this day. My father was a sperm donor. I think. I have vague memories of him, but my mother swears he never met me. Still, I could clearly see his face. His eyes smiled back at me every time I looked in the mirror. Sometimes he would visit my dreams to tell me he loved me, but that wasn’t real. Just like nothing ever seemed to be real to me. According to my therapist that was part of being schizophrenic. After tonight, I might need to go back to therapy. If Kassandra is back, it might also be time to up my medication. I occasionally needed to as my tolerance for it increased. Or maybe Kassandra was the one who became immune to it. She could also have been pretending to be gone but was listening the whole time.
She’s not real. I reminded myself. None of this is real.
‘I am real! You need to believe me this time. Our lives depend on it.’
‘Please… stop Kassandra.’ I pleaded with her. Now wasn’t the time for us to argue.
My grandmother raised me, but I wonder if she was my real grandmother. She used to scream at my mother that she wasn’t her daughter, but that was probably due to her behavior rather than it being the truth. My mother was wild and had me young. She was barely sixteen. Whoever my father was, my grandmother was not happy about it. At the same time, she wasn’t pleased that my mother pushed him away. She believed my father loved and wanted me, so she wanted to send me to be with him. That was something my mother never would have approved. Even if she didn’t want to take care of me, she didn’t want my father to have me either.
We struggled to connect for all of my life. When I went to college, my grandmother and I only remained in contact enough to ensure we were both alive. Resentment and distaste are all I have ever felt from her, but I never quite knew why. Despite that, I’m grateful for her taking care of me. She took me in when I didn’t have anyone else, so it’s hard ever to be mad about that. Deep down, I knew she loved me. I think her capacity to express that she did had died. Something dark happened to her, but she never discussed it with me. Someday, I hope she finds peace. Then, we may have a chance at a more loving relationship.
‘Valkyrie!’ Kassandra screamed, and I opened my eyes. I could see her standing in the field, a blueish-gray wolf with a tiny bit of white on one side of her body. The white streak seemed to change in size with her mood. Or I should say with my mood because she was me. I had to stop thinking of her as a separate entity, but she felt that way. It was as if her spirit lives inside me. Her eyes were golden like honey and were glaring at me right now. I admit she was striking. I wished I could pet her.
She howled. ‘Something doesn’t feel right!’
“I’m drunk. That’s all. Let’s lay here. Enjoy the moon and that smell. Oh god, I need to find it.”
‘MATE!’ She cried out as if calling to someone.
‘No one else is here.’ Why wouldn’t she shut up?
’He’ll come. Mate will help us.’ Suddenly she was lying beside me, head on her paws. ‘We will be with him again. He’s so close. I can feel it.’
I did not understand Kassandra. Of course, she was a hallucination, but each time she showed up, she seemed so sure about this mate of hers coming to save us, like the Prince Charming of Wolves or something. However, this was the first time she was confident he was here. Any other time, she just urged me to try and find him. A few times, I did attempt to and my grandmother found out. That’s when she gave me medication to silence her. Kassandra’s fantasy of her mate was now suddenly a reality. But why? Hormones? The forest? That scent?
Don’t try to make sense of it. I reminded myself. People with schizophrenia have hallucinations, and they rarely, if ever, make sense. And if I weren’t careful, I’d wind up in the hospital next to my mother. Tonight was the first time I could hear Kassandra again in a while. I hadn’t seen her in years. It hit me that I had missed her. When the world got hard, I longed to talk to her. Sometimes I did, even though she couldn’t answer.
‘I missed you too, human. Please trust me this time. Our lives depend on it. Mate is almost here. But the other wolf might be closer. He will only hurt us. How you trusted him, I have no idea.’
‘Trusted who?’ What wolf? I had never met any wolf in real life, and she was the only one inside of me.
My hand went to the chain I wore around my neck. My grandmother gave it to me for my birthday when I turned thirteen. She said it would keep me safe from the voices. It was a moonstone shaped like a teardrop. I never took it off, even though I was allergic to silver. Sometimes, it would burn my skin, and there would be angry red marks. The burning became less over time, but some marks still occasionally appeared. I noticed it most on the full moon, but that had to be a coincidence. Anyway, I tolerated the irritation to keep the voices away. Silly, I know, but so are most superstitions. Tonight the silver chain was burning me again.
My last thought before blacking out was that I would never drink again.
