Fleck and the Ferry That Crosses at Night

Fleck the firefly had a favourite spot.

It was on the very front of the ferry — right at the nose, where the wood was smoothest and the air smelled of cold river and something a little like sleep. Every night, Fleck landed there first thing. Every night, Fleck lit up, just once, to say: I am here.

The ferry was not like other ferries. It did not cross from one bank to another. It crossed from dreaming to waking, and back again, slow and steady, all through the dark hours.

The ferryman was a large toad named Crom. He stood at the back with a long pole and said very little. He wore a green coat with deep pockets and a wide, flat hat. He had been pushing the ferry back and forth for a long time, and he knew every ripple of the in-between water.

One night, Fleck landed in the favourite spot, lit up once, and then stopped.

Something was different.

In the middle of the ferry, there was a small moth. Her name was Esse. She had landed on the wooden rail and she was not moving. Her wings were folded flat and her antennae were very still.

Esse was stuck.

The ferry had started moving, and Esse did not know which way she wanted to go. Dreaming or waking — she could not decide, and the not-deciding had frozen her right to the rail.

Fleck looked at Esse. Fleck felt a little worried.

Then Fleck made a choice.

Fleck flew from the favourite spot — the very best spot, the nose-of-the-ferry spot — and flew all the way to the middle of the deck.

Fleck landed right next to Esse.

"Hello," said Fleck.

Esse's antennae moved, just a little. "Hello," she said. Her voice was very small.

"I have a good spot," said Fleck. "At the front. Do you want to come?"

Esse looked at Fleck. She looked at the front of the ferry. She looked at the dark water sliding past.

"Yes," said Esse. "I think so."

Fleck lit up — a small, steady glow, not too bright — and walked slowly toward the nose of the ferry. Esse followed, one careful step at a time.

Crom watched from the back. He did not say anything. But one corner of his wide mouth turned up, just a little.

When they reached the favourite spot, Fleck stopped and Esse stopped beside him.

The air smelled of cold river and something like sleep.

"Oh," said Esse quietly. "This is a good spot."

"Yes," said Fleck.

The ferry moved on through the in-between dark. Fleck lit up once, then twice — because there were two of them now — and the small glow sat steady on the water all the way to the other side.

When the ferry bumped gently against the waking shore, Esse stepped off first. She looked back at Fleck.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.

Fleck had never been asked that before.

"Yes," said Fleck. And Fleck meant it.

Crom pushed the ferry back out into the dark, and Fleck stayed at the favourite spot, glowing softly, feeling — not worried anymore, not alone — just very, very settled.