Moonlight in the City
Listen to the author read “Moonlight in the City” at The Blackstick Review launch event in May 2017. Story begins at 0:40-
It was almost two in the morning when Don Marquis began heading toward the exit of The Law Offices of Abrams, Ferrara, & Wolf. The hallway lights detected his presence and turned on in front of him as he walked, highlighting his path with an inordinate brightness. The tiles underfoot gleamed white and feebly reflected his sluggish stride as he moved through the corridor. He was wearing a sharp-looking, and well-fitted gray suit that had become increasingly disheveled since he had put it on the previous day. When he reached the front door and gave the rectangular glass a tired push before stepping out onto the pavement.
Don stood still in the muted moonlight, immobilized by indecision. Five days a week for the past four years he had invariably ridden the eight-seventeen train to work and usually took the seven-twelve train home. But the Metro had recently stopped running and would not resume service again for several hours. Realizing this, he consulted his cell-phone, found the location of a nearby bus stop, and adjusted his course.
As he walked he surveyed downtown Los Angeles with a slight degree of newfound interest. The grid pattern had been mapped out in a logical fashion and its constituent streets were sensibly lit. The city’s rigid structures stood attentively on either side of the tame avenues, forming the synthetic valleys that he travelled through.
Upon reaching the bus stop he stepped through the facade-less side of the shelter and absent-mindedly moved towards the already occupied bench. The occupant had been lying down on the aluminum bench, but quickly and courteously sat upright to create space for Don. He had long white hair that spilled out of a black cotton winter hat and hung in curls around his neck and ears. The man’s face was calm and friendly, albeit tired. Don stood apprehensively several feet away. The man gestured at the newly available seating. Don responded with a look of insincere cordiality before cautiously lowering himself onto the cold bench.
The men sat in silence, each watching a moth circling the light that hung down from the shelter’s ceiling. It continually flew around the light, slowly edging closer as its spiral flight pattern began to wind down. It landed on the fixture and rested for a moment before repeating the process.
After a brief period of silence the white-haired man cleared his throat and without taking his eyes off of the moth, he then began to speak, with some difficulty, as if his voice had not used in a while.
“Nobody knows for sure why they do it. Some people think it’s because moths are attracted to the light, but I don’t think that’s it. I read that they navigate by moonlight. They travel by always keeping the moon to their left or their right. It helps them travel in a straight line. But streetlights are closer and seem brighter than the moon. Some of them will keep circling a light until they die. They do it out of confusion, more so than desire.”
Don sat pensively for a moment before replying, “I always see moths near the lights outside my apartment, but I’ve never really wondered why they were there. It seemed like that’s just what moths do.”
The man did not reply. They continued to watch the moth and simultaneously faded back to a tensionless silence. A short while later the sound of a large combustion engine slowing down to a standstill encroached upon the quiet stillness of the night. Don stood up, and waved the bus driver on to indicate that he would not be boarding. He turned to the man as the bus began to pull away from the stop and gave him a weary, yet jovial nod before exiting the shelter. He then began to walk home.
Time passed, Don’s steps compounded, and the number of passing cars began to dwindle. The buildings slowly became shorter and more spread out, as did the space between streetlamps, giving way to darkness of the night.
Don soon found himself in an unfamiliar place and reflexively reached into his pocket to look up directions on his phone. He pulled it out to find that it had run out of battery. He slipped it back into his pocket and cursed his misfortune.
As he did, the first rays of early morning sunlight began to gently creep into view. The darkness had not yet surrendered to the light, but Don looked up and began walking toward the horizon.
Tyler Hagen is a student at The University of Massachusetts Amherst and has come to Mount Holyoke through use of the Five College Consortium, and the Pioneer Valley Transit Authority.