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This time for Weekend Writing Warriors, which is a great opportunity for writers to present their work in excerpts between 8 and 10 sentences long every weekend, I decided to test the genre that I have always admired, but I never actually realized it fully in my stories. So, I started writing a Gothic short story that is also based on some of tales told in my family and the mythology of where I come from.

Sometime after the dusk, the long, slow, summer kind, streets were suddenly empty and evening moths started dancing around the light from lampposts. All moths would stick to the glow calling to them every night. This light they stroveΒ to was intoxicating, but its source was not the sun or the moon. It was an illusion of warmth. It was a false beacon. One she-moth was especially enchanted by these particles and waves shining through the air. When and how the fascination began, she could not remember. After each transformation she knew even less about herself, but every time she felt the hunger was stronger. The she-moth distanced herself from the group and flew to a different beam that drew her, one that was dimmer but more inviting.

These 9 sentences are the beginning of the story. A Story of Another is a working title, so it may change. Also, in a way, I always wanted to write this kind of story and I will give my best to make it good.

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