A Day in the Life of a Moth By Katie Haigh
Perspective can change everything. This is just a small part of two women’s days and how from their view things can be completely different.
On a brisk Autumn day a middle aged women sits in a small town cafe, a quick break from her hectic day. Watching her trance like expression, we delve into her thoughts.
‘I’m nursing my extra strong espresso, hoping it’ll boost my flaking energy. All I can think of is errands, errands, errands, got to get the shopping, got to get my prescription and then there’s Dave’s dry cleaning and everything else I need to do. I press my lips against the cool ceramic cup but when I sip, it’s gone cold! and bitter! I cringe but sip it anyway hoping it’ll still give me the energy I need. As I do I look up, seeing a young women sat in a corner of the cafe. I focus on her as I notice her doing something strange, She’s pressing a moth against the mirrored wall of the cafe! I’m annoyed by her brass lack of emotion. Snuffing out a life, however small, without concern. What sort of a callous person is she? Just because she is young does not mean she can do as she pleases! My anger bubbles but then my phone vibrates in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. Checking my text I see Dave’s dry cleaning ready to collect. I sigh, no rest for the wicked.’
Now we go back ten minuets to a young women sat in the corner of the same small town cafe. She’s sat there looking blank, escaping life. We delve into her thoughts.
‘I’m gazing at my glass of orange juice, it’s been sat here so long, all the pips have drained to the bottom. One of the waitress ( The old greying one) is watching me. I know she wants me to go, I know she’s cursing me for taking up the room of paying customers. Been sat here two hours now, nursing this one drink, I know eventually they’ll ask me to leave but I’m holding out as long as I can. I just want stay here, where it’s safe and I’m not afraid. He’s at home, waiting for me, angry with me for something again. I don’t want to go home so he can knock me to the floor, punch me, break me physically and mentally. I just want to escape. My bruises are my dirty secret, hidden beneath makeup and clothes. No one knows but if they did, they wouldn’t care, that’s what he says anyway. My thoughts are broken as a moth lands on the mirrored wall next to me. I reach out, it’s so delicate and fragile yet beautiful but now I find myself swashing it with my hand. In one motion of movement it’s gone. I feel a strong sense of power, a release of tension, letting out the anger I hold inside. For me in that moment he was that moth, and I was the one in control, who had the power and I was free. My eye catches my reflection and I see an emotionless shell staring back. Where have I gone? I wonder, will I ever be me again? Turning back to my orange juice, I take a sip, as the waitress watches disapprovingly?’