She had arrived in Austin, Texas, just as May was giving way to summer, to spend the season with her cousins. Their house was located in Hyde Park, where bungalows and Victorian houses stood beneath the deep shade of sprawling oak trees. From the first day, the afternoons were streaked with rain showers, cooling the intense Texas heat for a while before the sun would break through again.
As the rain faded with the day’s light, she and her cousins took to the narrow, winding alleys behind the houses, a world of their own filled with rustling leaves and tangled vines. There, they chased fireflies that sparkled like tiny, living lanterns against the warm dusk. The children had devised a clever system—a series of jars and nets—to catch the fireflies, their makeshift contraptions growing more elaborate by the day. Each evening, their collection grew, as did their wonder at these little creatures lighting up the summer nights.
On late Sunday afternoon, after rounding up the lively Chihuahua dogs from the backyard, Ada found herself alone in the living room. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow that seemed to breathe warmth into every corner of the room. Her cousins had left for church with Uncle Robert, leaving her and the house in a rare, quiet stillness.
The room was a gallery of memories. Crystal sculptures glimmered in the sunset light, standing like silent guardians next to the paintings that adorned the walls. The deep, rich wood of the furniture lent a grounded warmth, its age-worn surfaces polished smooth over the years. A large mirror reflected the room’s calmness, its polished surface amplifying the sense of spaciousness and tranquility.
Yet quiet, the way shadows shifted slowly across the walls, filled the space with an almost secretive air, as if it were holding something back, waiting to reveal itself. She heard a delicate, dry rustling, just like the sound she’d noticed near the Red River creek the other evening. Glancing around, her eyes landed on the green-yellow head of a lizard peeking out from behind one of the walls. The dogs sprang to attention, barking and standing alert, their eyes fixed on the little intruder.
As the curious green-yellow lizard entered the living room, it sparked chaos. The dogs chased it around. Sculptures crashed, paintings toppled from the walls and star shaped lamps fell. The once orderly space transformed into chaos.
Despite Ada´s efforts, the elusive lizard defied capture, reveling in the mayhem it had created. Light dimmed and barely pierced the darkness, casting shadows in the room.
Ada stood frozen in shock, her mind struggling to grasp the nightmare unfolding before her eyes. But just as the madness threatened to consume her, Ada remembered an old trick her uncle Robert had taught her.
She reached for a jar of fireflies inside a wooden cabinet. With a quick flick of her wrist, she released the tiny glowing insects into the room.
The Chihuahua dogs stopped running and sat down next to her while the lizard mesmerized at the dance of tiny glowing lights. Then, in a swift darting motion the lizard snatched one firefly using its long tongue.
For a moment, the lizard moved with a sinuous grace following the reminding fireflies. Its yellow-green skin shimmered, changing hues and blending with the room’s decor. When it reached the front of the large mirror, it jumped towards it. The glass surface rippled like water, and in an instant, the lizard disappeared.
One by one, the fireflies floated gently back to the jar that Ada sustained with her both hands. As she closed the container, a soft, warm glow seeped into the room, illuminating the corners and banishing the gloom. The limelight returned, casting a gentle radiance over the space, bringing back the subtle highlights on the paintings, the delicate contours of the sculptures, and a sense of serenity to the Chihuahua dogs.
