Peter Petrelli (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spongetastic) wrote2010-05-21 01:11 pm
spongetastic) wrote2010-05-21 01:11 pm
Entry tags:
Mad: Fireflies
Living all his life in the city, Peter was used to falling asleep with the blare of horns and the wail of sirens. To be in a place without those things was hard for him to imagine-- almost impossible. But then his father took him out camping for the first time. Peter never thought there could be so much silence in the world. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All the sounds he missed were now clear. Leaves rustling in the wind, grass crunching beneath his feet… It was all beautiful.
That night he curled up into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. But he didn’t fall asleep. Strangely the lack of noise prevented it. In just a few minutes Peter grew restless and quietly slipped out into the cool night air. He could hear a soft, persistent chirping that until now he only knew from nature documentaries: crickets-- or were they grasshoppers? Peter glanced up, and above him were countless stars. So many that Peter couldn’t believe the sky could hold them all.
Strangest of all was the dark. The moon and the stars were nothing compared to the neon and florescent Peter was accustomed to seeing. But then, he noticed something. Soft lights blinking in and out, sort of like a lighthouse. Peter drew closer and saw more of them bobbing gently in the night. When he was close enough, Peter quickly clamped his hands over it.
Opening his fingers carefully, Peter saw to his amazement a small bug crawling inside. It didn’t seem panicked or even troubled in its prison. It crawled over Peter’s palm with its light fading in and out gently. Peter remembered learning about these in class. Lightning bugs, or fireflies. Carefully he transported his tiny passenger into his father’s tent.
“Dad,” he whispered. “Dad, look what I found.” His father didn’t respond. “Dad!” the boy called out louder. “Dad, wake up!”
“What?” Arthur grunted irritably.
“Look what I found.” Peter opened his fingers to show his father the firefly.
“Peter.” His father let out an annoyed sigh. “For God’s sake, get that thing out of here.”
“But--”
“Get it out, now,” Arthur insisted. Peter let out a sigh and obediently crawled back outside. He opened his hands to release the firefly. It crawled across his fingers as if unaware of its freedom. It walked to the very edge of Peter’s hand before noticing the open sky. The firefly lifted off, hovering close by for a moment. If he wanted Peter could easily capture it again.
Slowly the firefly drifted off to join its brothers, getting lost among the faint lights.
That night he curled up into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. But he didn’t fall asleep. Strangely the lack of noise prevented it. In just a few minutes Peter grew restless and quietly slipped out into the cool night air. He could hear a soft, persistent chirping that until now he only knew from nature documentaries: crickets-- or were they grasshoppers? Peter glanced up, and above him were countless stars. So many that Peter couldn’t believe the sky could hold them all.
Strangest of all was the dark. The moon and the stars were nothing compared to the neon and florescent Peter was accustomed to seeing. But then, he noticed something. Soft lights blinking in and out, sort of like a lighthouse. Peter drew closer and saw more of them bobbing gently in the night. When he was close enough, Peter quickly clamped his hands over it.
Opening his fingers carefully, Peter saw to his amazement a small bug crawling inside. It didn’t seem panicked or even troubled in its prison. It crawled over Peter’s palm with its light fading in and out gently. Peter remembered learning about these in class. Lightning bugs, or fireflies. Carefully he transported his tiny passenger into his father’s tent.
“Dad,” he whispered. “Dad, look what I found.” His father didn’t respond. “Dad!” the boy called out louder. “Dad, wake up!”
“What?” Arthur grunted irritably.
“Look what I found.” Peter opened his fingers to show his father the firefly.
“Peter.” His father let out an annoyed sigh. “For God’s sake, get that thing out of here.”
“But--”
“Get it out, now,” Arthur insisted. Peter let out a sigh and obediently crawled back outside. He opened his hands to release the firefly. It crawled across his fingers as if unaware of its freedom. It walked to the very edge of Peter’s hand before noticing the open sky. The firefly lifted off, hovering close by for a moment. If he wanted Peter could easily capture it again.
Slowly the firefly drifted off to join its brothers, getting lost among the faint lights.