Firefly Night

PROLOGUE

-2006-

WHEN A FIREFLY BURNS TOO BRIGHT, DOES IT KNOW ITS DESTINED TO DIE?

Maybe they don't.

Maybe they're just like stars, burning bright until they can't anymore.

Lavender-scented breezes whispered through the tall grass as I raced across the meadow, my bare feet sinking into the cool, soft earth with each step. My dad always said, The darker the soil, the deeper the secrets. He'd show me how to feel it, how to understand it. The soil remembers, he'd tell me as we worked the fields together, his hands guiding mine to dig into the ground, feeling the richness, the life hidden beneath the surface. The earth held onto the stories of seasons past, keeping them safe, waiting for someone to come along and listen.

And I did listen. I'd sneak away to the creek, where the soil turned to cool, thick mud, and I'd press my feet into it, letting the ground swallow them whole. The world around me would quiet down, and I'd focus on the sounds—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chirping of crickets, the steady murmur of the water. In those moments, I understood what my dad meant, even if I couldn't put it into words.

Tonight, the fireflies were everywhere, their tiny lights blinking in the dark, like stars scattered across the sky, only now they were close enough to touch. I chased after them, my breath coming in short bursts as I tried to catch one in my hands.

It felt like a dream.

I paused for a moment, the cool breeze ruffling my curls as I stood there, letting the night wrap around me. The fireflies shimmered against the old oak trees at the edge of our property, their delicate glow weaving in and out of the twisted branches. I knew those trees well, had spent countless summer days climbing as high as I dared. The higher I went, the more of our land I could see, stretching out like it had no end.

"Mama?" I called out, my voice barely louder than a whisper, almost like I was afraid of disturbing the night. The cicadas were getting louder, their song filling the air as I searched for her familiar shape. My heart fluttered, a mix of excitement and worry tugging at me. What if she was mad I'd snuck out past bedtime? Or worse, what if she was upset because I hadn't finished my chores? Stella would tell on me for sure. I just knew it.

But there was no answer. No sign of her anywhere.

The shadows stretched long and dark across the field, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Where are you?" I called again, a little louder this time, but the night just swallowed up my words.

The cattle in the meadow turned their heads, their big eyes catching the moonlight and shining back at me like little pools of black water. They made everything feel quiet, like the world was holding it's breath, waiting. It was strange, how different everything felt at night. Like I'd stepped into a whole new place where things moved slower, where the rules were different.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I tried to blink them away, but they kept coming faster and faster. I rubbed at my face with the back of my hand, sniffling as I looked around again. The fireflies kept floating around me, their soft lights flickering in the dark. One of them caught my eye. It wasn't like the others—its light wasn't steady. It flickered, dimmed, then brightened again, like it couldn't decide what to do. I stared at it, feeling my heart pound faster.

I wonder if it's lost too. The thought slipped into my mind, and I felt a little less alone, watching that tiny flicker of light in the dark, trying to find its way.

I kept going, trying to find my way as I pushed through the tall grass, heart pounding in my chest. She's out here somewhere, I told myself, my breaths coming quick and sharp. She has to be.