Elmo's Terrible Evening in 1964

Elmo Sparggs was tired. The skinny, weathered, 58-year old stood on the porch of his small Lousiana cabin looking west to the sunset. Staring out at the declining sun over the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, Elmo lamented, "Damned blight on a beautiful view". Elmo hated the new bridge, even if it was "good for the economy" as the carpetbaggers had sold it. Elmo scratched at his dirt-covered overalls grimly as he reviewed his thoughts about the bridge that spanned South to New Orleans. Sun will be down in 30 minutes, Elmo internally noted his need to light his outdoor fuel lamp and prepare for the skeeters; Elmo had work to do tonight.

Forty minutes later, had moved the night's work to his back lot. He hung the lantern at the edge of his back porch and moved to the small pot distiller he'd set up. Corn squeezings tonight, cornshine. The full moon should make the low-light work of distilling shine easier, while also allowing Elmo to work mostly in darkness; Like his Daddy taught him. The still was set and the fire ignited, fermented corn slop in the kettle. The next four hours should be quiet cooking and Elmo expected to pull at least a gallon of heads and hearts from tonight's stripping run. Elmo listened to the sound of the fire under the distillery, waiting to hear the telltale signs of activity in the belly of the brewpot. Elmo's father had always taught him: You brew with your nose but you make shine with your ears and tongue. Elmo reckoned he had another 2-25 minutes before the still would start spitting out the foreshots. Elmo mentally calculated how much foreshots he'd accumulated last month. The undrinkable deadly juice that comes first in distilling was quite valuable to Elmo. Add a little foreshots to your fuel and your boat can scoot a little faster than the revenuers, Elmo remembered his Daddy teaching him.

Elmo pondered the lessons of his father, remembering how his father would use his full name, Elmarco, when being stern about a lesson. He was a hard man, Sparggs thought of his Daddy, but he made me strong. Some memories of his father hurt.

Elmo pondered taking down his porch light. His daddy always taught him you only brew under the moon, you don't want to get caught because someone saw your fire. His father had taught him how to build a smokeless fire that couldn't be seen from more than 30 feet. But Daddy didn't know about these times, Elmo relaxed. "Times are different Daddy, its 1964," he spoke to his father's ghost, "the law here don't care if I'm cooking". Still, his gut and his muscle memory was telling him to pull down the porch lamp, even if it wasn't drawing skeeters yet.

Elmo chewed his cheroot, bothered more and more by the porch lamp. There was no reason to take it down, but it still bothered him. Better to stay with Daddy's lessons, Elmo reasoned. Giving an ear to the distiller, Elmo got up to take down the gas lamp hanging from the back porch.

As Elmo walked towards the porch to turn off the lamp, he heard movement at the treeline. He instantly spun to face the noise, tense and ready, his mind remembering the the path to the rifle just inside the back door. Seeing nothing in the treeline his mind raced to remember the sound he'd heard. Sounded like a large animal not a small one, Elmo knew the sounds of his little lakeside property. Something big there, maybe a deer? Conflicted, Elmo was torn between grabbing his hunting rifle and shooting some free venison, but leaving the shine run wasn't a good idea. Better, at least, to have the gun closer to still, Elmo thought.

Elmo, still calm, but not happy about the unidentified sound, walked backwards to the porch, keeping his sight on any movement in the treeline along his back work lot. Seeing and hearing nothing but the distiller and its fire as he backtracked to his porch, he felt safe turning to open his back door. That when he heard the sound again. This time accompanied by a large branch-snap and movement.

Elmo's blood ran cold. That's not a deer. Quickly turning to reach inside the front door and grab the Winchester, panicking at the fluttering and fast steps behind him. His mind trying to focus on getting the gun as the panic rose with each footstep getting closer. Grabbing the rifle and spinning, pulling the bolt-lock, Elmo was ready to fire on whatever was approaching. Elmo pulled the rifle to the center of the sound approaching him.

The he saw it. Elmo stopped still. Trying to comprehend what he was seeing. The damned thing had butterfly wings! Elmo stared at the black butterfly-man. Elmo had never been frozen by fear. He'd been chased by revenuers as a kid with his Daddy and he had no fear then. He'd been around gators and never broke a sweat. And now, all Elmo could do was stare in shock.

The creature approached him but Elmo was still frozen. He only regaining composure just long enough to ask, "Why are you here?" before the creature rushed towards him and spun him by his shoulders.

Elmo, dizzy from the fast spin noticed he was now bent over the chest freezer on his back porch. He felt the straps on his overalls be roughly ripped loose, hurting his shoulders.

"Stop,... please" was all Elmo could get out as he felt his overalls being pulled down. Next he felt coolness on his legs and rear as his dirty briefs were pulled down his legs.

Elmo was lost, his world was spinning, and in part of his mind he knew he was about to get raped. Trying to fight his own mental fugue and the whirlwind of events occurring.

Elmo remembered the gun he held, but now saw that he was unarmed. His hand were pressed against the freezer trying to push free but failing. He felt strong hands pushing his shoulders down against the freezer lid, and he felt the heat and warmth of another person on the exposed skin of his ass and thighs. Then, he felt the heat move closer to his exposed ass.

The large butterfly creature placed its large hand on the back of Elmo's head, pressing it to the top of the freezer. Delirious, Elmo's vision spun and he tried to break free. He didn't know what what happening, but he knew he had to get away.

Then, Elmo felt something pressing against his anus, something warm, and,... fluffy?

"No!" Elmo grunted as the thing pressed its member into him. He expected pain, but his mind when blank.

Elmo floated in an endless white infinity. Was this heaven? And then, abruptly, Emarco fell to earth and found himself watching an ancient scene. He was watching a courtyard full of amazing creatures in a council. He watched a humanoid god receive a curse, and he watched the god's friend, a golden eagle, get cursed as well by association. Hearing a voice of great authority say, "You are cursed to know no good, to feel no good, and to do no good. You are cast in darkness."

Elmo seemed to rip forward in time to a new event, Seeing through the eyes of the eagle. The former golden eagle now black-feathered, and only able to move and act at night, unable to move in daylight. In this moment the eagle watched an ancient building along a river, quiet and peaceful. But the eagles rest was interrupted by a vision of the future. The eagle saw that in a short while a landslide up stream would wash the small building away. Remembering its former glory, the eagle spent the next few days trying to drive the local humans away from the building. This led to the villagers driving him away with arrows. Elmo felt himself as the eagle, watching the landslide kill hundreds of humans, unable to help,... after being unable to warn.

Elmo's mind was ripped through hundreds of instances of the eagle trying to warn against disaster but being unable. As he tumbled through time he felt himself, as the eagle, changing. Born again many times, his body adapting to darkness in new ways. His bird wings thinning to insect wings, moth wings. His feathers turning to thin barbs, then bushy black cilia. After a few centuries, the eagle had even grown moth-like sensing tentacles on its head, furry like a moth. A moth, Elmo almost though, He's not a butterfly,.. Its some kind of moth man.

Elmo's mind flew through hundreds, thousands of more experiences as a moth. Moving from disaster to disaster, trying to warn humans, always unable. And always unable to stop the visions. Bridges failing, flooded rivers, tidal waves,... all passing Elmarco's mind with frightening speed and losses of life.

Elmo vaguely remembered his body at this time, feeling hot liquid leaking out of his ass down his leg. Then he was ripped back to more history, but now a sexual history. Elmo remembered every member of this genetic line, He was all of them. The cursed golden eagle, who had taken to raping vultures to continue its seed. Then as an adult black eagle, raping a condor; The condor remembering the history in the seed, just like Elmo. Then he was a giant condor eagle, who raped an unknown bird on a sea island. Elmo experienced hundred of generations of rape as the being did whatever it could to reproduce, passing its full genetic memory on to mate and child. Slowly morphing to a new self with each new birth.

But even in his stupor, Elmo knew he wouldn't give birth. He would have the memories forever, but no moth-child of his would ever learn them. This was just what the mothman had to do. He then saw hundreds of incidences of the now-Moth-creature unable to find a mate, raping whoever it came across. Elmo's mind had been spun across hundreds of centuries, but then the memories became recent and slower.

Elmo found himself staring out over the causeway bridge, seeing a vision of two barges colliding, knowing It would collapse part of the bridge. People will die and I can't do anything to stop it, Elmo thought. Elmo wasn't sad about this, though he felt he should be. He simply felt the lot was cast and nothing could change it.

Elmo then felt himself sneaking out of the woods behind some cooking equipment to rape a skinny man in overalls. Elmo watched from behind the Mothman's eyes as it raced towards the small man, Himself, and bent him over a freezer. Elmo's next thought was of his moth orgasm and cumming in his own ass, relieved.

Then Elmo woke on the wooden floor of his back porch. Overalls around his ankles, moth-cum leaking from his asshole. He also noted his own leaky, limp penis had ejaculated from the experience. Elmo reeled from learning the entire genetic memory of his rapist. Staring up at the Mothman, there were no words. Elmo could never know another living being as well as he now knew the monster that had raped him. He felt,... sorry for the thing.

The Mothman stared down at Elmo silently, then quietly turned to go.

"Wait!" Elmo shouted, breathless. "I know everything, I know it all,... Except one thing.... Why me? why did you come here to me tonight?"

The Mothman stared for a second, taking a moment to try and comprehend the humans words. Then the Mothman understood.

"~um~" The Mothman's insect voice buzzed as it gestured to the fuel lamp, "~the~light~was~on~" and flew off into the night.