Bugs and Dreams
Hill Creel

Deep in the heart of the south where the wind blows rarely and trees
and grass abound every knoll and gully, sat a swamp. In itself the
swamp was not very grand by swamp standards. There were no crocodiles
stealthily stalking some unsuspecting prey, and there were no coral snakes
sunning themselves atop great granite boulders. However void of danger
it was, it did hold great beauty. Huge cypress trees framed this picturesque
paradise, their long over burdened branches skimming the top of the gentle
pale blue water. Long eared jack rabbits nourished themselves in the tall
lush grass, all the while a badger busied himself reinforcing the walls
of his den with mud he brought up from the bank of the river. Fat bellied
bull frogs rested their voices on lily pads waiting for the night to fall
so they could begin their baritone melody. This panoramic Eden went
virtually unnoticed by human eyes. The only path which led to it was arduous,
strewn with boulders and briars making it impossible to arrive by horse,
which worked out well for its one human visitor who had no horse, nor a
great love for humans, making the swamp all the more desirable.

Yet these were not the reasons Josh endured the two mile walk on a nearly
daily basis. He came to see the magic. By day the swamp truly was a
beautiful sight, but by night it was a mystical menagerie. As the sun would
begin to take its leave of the earth and the dark blanket of night would
begin to cover the skyline, the rabbits and badger would prepare themselves
for a restful nights slumber. Frogs were intermittently warming their voices
to begin their song and the fireflies were waking to begin their nocturnal
day. As the radiance of the sun gave way to the dance of the lighting bugs,
Josh's soul would fill with Peace. It always seemed to him that someone had
plucked the universe from the sky, placing it around him so that he may
dream and forget the pain for awhile.

It was a night such as this when the slender black-haired boy dressed in
worn denim overalls found himself sitting under a a protective tee branch
for what he thought would be an ordinary night in his life. This would not
be the first time he would be wrong.

Tears were flowing freely from his eyes, and he rubbed them constantly
trying to fight the pain out of his heart. This caused a physical pain
for when he touched his left eye he felt the pang of a bruise not yet
finished swelling. His tears were quiet ones as he had found great need
to make them silent at the place he called home. "Men don't cry," his
father would often say and that regularly preceded the back of his hand;
but Josh was not a man, he was five and he wanted nothing more than for
the pain to go away. An uncontrollable sob shook his small body as he
once again touched his eye, it was then that his life would change forever.

"What happened to your eye?" Josh awoke from his thoughts with a start.
He had never seen another soul in the place he considered his own. Straining
his eyes in the darkness he could see nothing of the source of the voice.
Shakily he dared say, "Who's out there?"

Calling back the voice replied, "Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"I don't know who you are but ya ain't supposed to be here." Josh was
certain of one thing, this voice was not from these parts, it lacked
the slow Southern drawl as all he had only ever known. From behind a tree a
girl of apparently the same age stepped into view and was dimly illuminated
by the twinkle of the bugs.

"I ain't, am I," she said mockingly, "what happened to your eye."

Looking at her, he saw beautiful light reflecting on beautiful eyes and
suddenly he was not so anxious to make this stranger leave.

"I was bad and my Pa whooped me.

The smile she had worn on her face disappeared as she asked,
"Didn't your mother stop him?".

That made him feel empty and he fought to suppress the new tears welling
behind his eyes. "I ain't got one of them."

In her heart she began to feel his pain, she replied,
"My name is Lynden, what's yours?"

"Josh", he said, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Can I sit with you?"

For five, he always tried to at least put up a facade of being
unfeeling, "Sure, I don't care no how."

When she seated herself they both turned to watch the radiant
show playing before them.

"What do you call those things anyway?", Lynden queried.

"Thems lighting bugs, and they're magic."

There was a definite pride in his statement.

"They are lighting bugs and they're not magic," she corrected him sternly.

"They are too, and if you say that again you can jist get the hell outa here!"

He was very grateful when she did not push the matter, he did not
want her to leave, he wanted her right where she was, by his side.
Wordlessly they spent the night watching the light show and listening
to the repetitious croaking of the bull frogs, until at last, they slept,
there heads resting against each other. As dawn crept in, the lighting
bugs retired from the sky and entered into their dreams.
He had found a friend.

Epilogue:

My true love unknown,

I no not know your name, your face, your hopes or
your dreams. I know we share a common pain, of missing each
other between our arms. I have searched a lifetime for you and my heart
and soul grow weak from not having found you. Twice now I've thought
you were in my life, only to feel years of a tainted mind, and lose you
once again to my own insecurities. I know now the only way I will ever find
you is to let you go. So for a time I must say goodbye. When we find each other,
I will have found my best friend, my true unconditional love.
I pray God and Fate will one day bring you to my open arms, but if I should
never meet you, I will still sometimes greet you, somewhere in my dreams.

I miss you, my True Love unknown,
Hill Creel

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