The Firefly Man

[iekelek23]

This is a short story I wrote some time ago. It's intended for children--ages 8-9 or so. While I've had some success getting it read by agents and publishers, I haven't found the right publisher yet...I would welcome some feedback; perhaps there are a few little tweaks I could make? Thank you!

THE FIREFLY MAN

It was a night in late June. My father and I were outside, sitting on our front porch. I was only five then, and I ran about in a light summer dress, happily collecting fireflies in my chubby fists. When I had both hands full of the glowing insects, I went to my father and he told me to get a jar from our cook, Stacey.
I dropped the flies into the jar and placed it on my bedside table. In the morning, I woke up eagerly and ran to the jar, wanting to see the lightning bugs crawl inside it. They were all dead.

That was many years ago. I’m a grown woman now, and it is April 21, 1861. My father, Robert Edward Lee, has been offered the command of all the Union army. He has declined. But now he has been given the opportunity to manage the army of the Confederates. Our whole family waits to see if he will accept.
One night, after dinner, he calls us all into the parlor. Without preamble, he says, “I have made a decision.”
We all wait silently for his answer.
“I have decided to accept the offer of the Confederacy.”
My mother nods calmly, accepting his decision as if there is no other possible way things could be.
He walks over to her and puts his hand on her shoulder.
He turns, and, addressing the rest of us, says, “My family lives in Virginia, and has done so for a long time. I was born in Virginia. My loyalty to you, and to my state, is so strong that I could not bear to leave, to turn against you. That is why I declined the offer of the Union and accepted that of the Confederacy.”
We are all stunned into silence.
He adds, “I leave tomorrow, on the train to Richmond. I know it is sudden, but Virginia needs me now.”
Why has Mother said nothing? Why does she stand there so calmly and not scream at this betrayal of our nation, our people?
How could Father do this to our country? Whatever his loyalty to us, what about the Union?
I turn, and, confused and angry, run out of the parlor.

I spend the rest of the evening in my room, refusing to talk to anyone. Even a woman of twenty-two has a right to be upset sometimes.
When the sky is fully dark and the moon has long since risen, I hear Mother coming up the stairs. I would know her soft, gentle tread anywhere. When I was a girl it consoled me, but now I wish she would leave me alone.
She knocks at my door. “Annie,” she says quietly. “May I come in?”
“Go away.” I bury my face in the pillow.
“Annie, please.” I cannot bear to hear her pleading. Slowly, I get up from my bed and open my door.
“Annie,” she says softly. “Dear one.” She holds me to her carefully, as if I might break. “Let me tell you why I have accepted your father’s decision.”
She takes my hair out of its bun and begins to brush it gently, letting it flow down my back in long brown waves. As she brushes she talks, her voice soothing. “The night your father had to decide, I heard him pacing and pacing in his study, back and forth, back and forth. It went on for hours. At last, he came downstairs, his face white and tired. ‘Well, Mary,’ he said. ‘The question is settled. Here is my letter of resignation.’ It was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. ‘I cannot sanction the invasion of the Southern states anymore than I can bear the desecration of my own people,’ he told me. I saw how hard it was for him,” Mother said, “and I knew that he was following what he believed was right, and nothing I could say would change that.”
“But Mother,” I said. “What about our country?”
“I know,” she said. She kissed me very softly on the cheek. “But think of what he, too has had to give up.”

The day I learned my family history it was hot and muggy outside. The heat of an August afternoon clung to the air, my hands, my hair, and my dress. The grass had lost its softness and begun to crisp, worn out under the merciless glare of the cloudless blue sky overhead. Everything cried out for rain, and the leaves on the trees drooped limply as though they had simply given up.
My father stood beside me, his shoulders straight, his hands clasped behind his back. Though the sweat dripped down the sides of his face he gave no sign he knew it was there, much less made any effort to wipe it away. “Annie,” he said quietly, “what a beautiful day!”
“How can you say that?” I asked, twisting the end of my wet braid around one finger. “It’s scorching hot, and it hasn’t rained for weeks!”
“We are here,” he said simply. “In Virginia. Look at her, Annie. Look at this country. I have seen nowhere prouder, or stronger, or more beautiful.”
I looked up at him. I was only eleven, after all, and could have nothing important to say about my ancestors.
“For years,” he continued, his voice even softer now, “My family has formed this country. We have influenced her Congress and signed her declaration. We have served in her armies. I love her dearly. And yet, without this state, we would have had no lands. No influence. No heritage. Governors, and statesmen, and soldiers, we have been.”
His eyes were looking somewhere very far away. I sensed it was not truly to me that he spoke. “A man can be whatever he wishes, in Virginia. By our servants, colonists, and explorers American lands were discovered and plowed, and by the power and influence of statesmen we gained our place in this nation. By the sacrifice of our soldiers this country was formed.”
The heat was pressing down on me as if it contained the weight of all my ancestors. There was no breeze, but I could almost hear voices whispering. There was a regal feeling even to that drought. The sky was bright, the kind of blue I used to long for in a dress, the kind that comes only on days such as that one when Nature knows she has to appease us for her cruelty by giving us some form of beauty to gaze upon. May Virginia always be Father’s refuge, I thought briefly.
But I was only eleven, and did not have patience for further adult reflections, and after a moment I slipped away from Father and resumed my play.

~~~
The next day dawns as any April day would: sunny and bright, with many birds calling in the trees and bushes. The cheerful setting does nothing to improve my mood.
I know Father is leaving in a few hours, but I decide to stay in the library. I don’t feel like talking to him just yet.
I sit primly in a chair and pick up a book. I am so distracted I cannot concentrate on the words. They are meaningless strings of letters dangling off the page like bait. This fish is not biting. After a few minutes of vain attempts to read, I give up and settle deeper in the chair, staring at the photograph of Father and Mother which hangs over the empty fireplace.
“Annie.” Father’s voice comes from behind me, in the doorway. I turn and look at him silently. He walks over to me and sits in the chair beside mine.
“Annie, let me explain.”
I don’t say a word. A single tear snakes down my cheek.
He looks into my eyes and decides to go on. Something in them showed him the unspoken consent I felt but would not say. Something inside me wants him to explain, needs him to explain.
“I know it may feel like I’ve betrayed our country. My heart lies with the Union. However, my soul is even more faithful to my beloved family, you, and my dear state of Virginia. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”
He pauses to take my hand. “Remember the fireflies, Annie? Remember how you used to run and catch them, then try to keep them, and they would always die?”
“I do.”
“I am like them, Annie. Commanding the Union army would take me hundreds of miles away, just as you put them in the jar. I wouldn’t last long in that jar. Away from my family and my state, my light would go out. If I command the Confederacy, I am like a free firefly. I can stay near those I love, and my light, the light of love for our family and faith in Virginia, will not go out.”
I smile, realizing for the first time what Father has sacrificed for us. Then I hug him and say, “Thank you, Father! Thank you!”

Two hours later, he rides away.
The tears that fall down my face then are tears of joy and pride as I watch Robert Edward Lee, general of the Confederate Army, gallop off on his horse, Traveller, and down the road to Richmond, for the love of our family and our Virginia.

[vickimess]

I really do like the story. I do think it would really seem complicated and not enough to hold the attention of 8-9 year olds...maybe more like 13 years old.

[LivreAmour217]

I really do like the story. I do think it would really seem complicated and not enough to hold the attention of 8-9 year olds...maybe more like 13 years old.

I agree. It is a lovely story and I enjoyed it very much, but I think that it's better suited for older children.

[DATo]

Nice story but the central theme doesn't work. The fact that Lee would be like a confined firefly because he would be far from home if a member of the Union army doesn't fit the facts. The Lee estate was known as Arlington - today this is Arlington National Cemetery which is located just across the river from Washington D.C. He could have been in the Union army and still been close to home. Perhaps a slightly better analogy might have been a bee who peacefully and non-aggressively collects nectar from the flowers in your garden but will attack if you threaten its home, the beehive.

The story was well written but I think perhaps an opportunity was missed here. I would not have divulged the name of the father in the beginning of the story but rather treated the subject as simply a father going off to war. He would give all the reasons why he must go and only at the end reveal that it is Robt. E. Lee.

These are simply some thoughts of mine. You have still written a very nice story. Thank you for sharing it with us,

[Line Elise]

I agree with what DATo noted about the fact that he could stay near his home on the Union side, however I add to that that during the American Civil War Virginia was a border state which might've seceded. I think the plot makes sense if based on Robert having a strong belief that Virginia WOULD soon secede.
I also agree that the story may be for a small bit older audience, not because of the writing but the matter of the period. However, it doesn't really affect the writing.
Some suggestions I would make towards the story are: A) Possibly involve a belief that Virginia would secede to Robert's argument in order to better uphold the reality, B) In the same fashion, I would suggest just doing a bit more research not because I believe anything bad about the story, but because it could only improve by more strongly supporting the story, C) The flashback was not quite immediately recognizable as such, and it would be helpful to make this more clear, D) There are several sentences which resemble the first: "It was a night in late June," and while a majority of the story is very well worded, if I were you I would look for these type of sentences and play around with simply adding a little bit to them. Even one word changes it, such as: "It was an arid night in late June." My final suggestion is more of an ambient thought while reading. Maybe you like it, maybe not. E) Perhaps Annie understood her father's reasons and could be at peace with them, but was still somewhat upset because she didn't totally agree, maybe because she didn't share that belief that Virginia would secede. Therefore she sees her father ride off a bit later, and feels badly for leaving it on that note as they would not see each other for some time. Of course, it's your writing and I have no right to impose, but this might spice the story up just a little bit.

Anyway, I think you have an absolutely fantastic story and whatever you do I for one am sure it will remain that. Best of luck to you!

[jamesfcurry]

Fantastic story, love it from the first worlds.