The Moth

A Story by Chris McQueer

A moth narrates as it attempts to take over a man's body by burrowing through his ear canal and into his brain.

Being a moth, I am driven by the insatiable desire to fly into a human being's ear canal, burrow through the soft tissue and bone inside and take control of their brain. I will then live undetected as a human for around eighty years. The host's friends and family will have no idea their loved one, a person they may have known their entire life, is actually being operated from within by a humble house moth.

However, only a small number of moths in recorded history have achieved this. I am confident I can join their ranks. I have spent weeks studying my chosen host. He is a very large, very strong behemoth of a man with a penchant for alcohol. Very fond of getting extremely inebriated, almost to the point of unconsciousness and with fat, stumpy fingers that will barely fit in his ear, he shouldn't put up too much of a fight as I eat my way into his mind.

Today is the day I will finally make my move. Big Gordon, as his equally alcohol obsessed friends call him, has been getting as drunk as humanly possible out in the baking hot sun all day and he is due to collapse at any moment. I will leave him to enter a deep sleep, then, when I am satisfied he no longer possesses the dexterity to stop me, I will fly into his left ear.

I am clinging to the wall of what is soon to be my new home. Camouflaged against the exposed brick work, I am invisible to the flock of pigeons pecking around the garden. I watch Big Gordon rise from his sun lounger, his sudden movement thankfully scaring away the winged vermin that like to prey upon my species.

The delicate human skin on his face has been beaten red raw by the sun. It looks painful and I am not particularly looking forward to dealing with the sensation of the skin peeling from my nice new face. He lumbers forward a few steps before stopping and swaying side to side with all the grace and elegance of a weeping willow tree in the wind. He rocks backwards and forwards on his feet then falls face first with a dull thud into the grass. He has surely broken his nose but he shows no sign of being in any pain. I am also not looking forward to having to inhale fetid odours up through my new (possibly broken) proboscis rather than just sensing them using my antennae.

Watching this creature put his body through so much punishment, I can't help but feel I am doing him a favour by taking control. It won't be long until he is out of his misery.

With the pigeons having fled in terror and my host safely rendered unconscious by his fall, it is time to fulfil my plan. I swoop down from my vantage point and land on Big Gordon's soft, fleshy cheek. All he will feel, if anything, is the soft flutter of my wings and a gentle tickling from feet.

Many moths favour the dive bomb technique; hurtling into their chosen host's ear at great speed with the aim of lodging themselves deep into the aural cavity. I have observed many moths using this technique and found this causes humans to panic and plunge their fingers in after them, mashing them to a pulp. A more delicate approach is required if you ask me.

I feel around the opening to his ear using my front legs. I am astounded by the beauty of the flowing curves of the cartilage and the ridges that appear almost like ripples on a lake. I tuck in my wings, streamlining myself to manoeuvre through the canal. I am filled with a surge of adrenaline and the urge to charge in as fast and hard as I can is a difficult one to resist. I compose myself though. I have a long way to go.

I squeeze my head into the dark tunnel. Tiny, oily hairs tickle my soft underbelly as I slide along, not a totally unpleasant sensation. His snoring creates a deep, thunderous rumble and I can feel his entire head vibrating. Air rushes in and out underneath me. The warmth envelops me and the darkness sharpens my senses. A sharp metallic smell overloads my antennae. I flick my tongue out slowly, wincing in anticipation of the bitter taste of his ear wax. I suck up the foul matter as I continue to push my way along. The wax coats my entire body. My wings are slicked down with the greasy substance. A special gland in my mouth goes into overdrive as I swallow as much of the wax as I can, producing an acid which will be secreted from the end of tongue that will soften the bone of Big Gordon's skull, allowing me to dig my way into his brain.

But before I can think about the arduous task of digging through seven millimetres of solid bone, I have to burst through his ear drum. I caress the paper thin structure. I can feel its tautness straight away. I have to get through it quick or the scratching noise of my mandibles gnawing at it will awaken my sleeping host. I pierce the membrane and force my way through into his inner ear.

This is often where things go wrong for the few intrepid moths who make it this far. On the other side of the ear drum is what is known as the Eustachian tube, a deep chasm which leads to the mouth and to almost certain death. In order to prevent this fate occurring, you have to deftly manoeuvre your way around the edges of this pit. My chosen technique is to stick my feet into clumps of ear wax, giving me extra grip. By doing this you can edge your way around the gaping chasm and latch on to the cochlea at the other side. This method was used by a house moth, like myself, who managed to successfully take a over a human being and become the world's foremost lepidopterist.

My host remains lying flat out on the ground, undisturbed by the goings on inside his head. I am very excited at the thought of the long rest I am going to enjoy when I fuse with his brain and take full control of him. I may sleep for a fortnight.

The cochlea is an especially strange organ in the human body, which in itself is essentially a big bag of strange organs. Comprised of a maze of delicate bony walls and filled with chambers of air and fluid, its purpose is, as yet, unknown to us moths. It is here I get to use my newly produced bone dissolving acid for the first time. I roll out my tongue and I can feel the hot, caustic liquid surging forward to the tip. it erupts in a furious jet which I aim at the centre of the cochlea. The labyrinthine structure of this part of the human ear would prove difficult to traverse if I was smaller but as I am a somewhat rotund moth, I will be able to use my bulk to forge a path straight through to the skull.

I dissolve the brittle bone wall and a steady stream of fluid washes over me. I wait until the flow subsides before entering the first chamber. As my feet feel around the moist floor of the chamber, I pick up a soft vibration.

Big Gordon is waking up.

His normally deep voice has riven several octaves with fear. the cochlear liquid is rushing back in behind me. He is attempting to get to his feet. The sensation of the acid dissolving this delicate part of his ear must have put his body into panic mode. He will be fully awake in moments and will feel me surging through his head, causing him to panic further.

This is not good.

My host wants me out immediately. He is now upright. The brain is frantically sending signals to get Big Gordon to jam a finger into his ear. As he does this, the pressure forces me deeper into the cochlea. Human aural juice sloshes around. Acid is spraying forth from my tongue and I scratch at the membranes and bony walls with all of my might. My legs, laden with wax, prise apart the melting bone. I break through the cochlea and I am now at the skull.

I can feel Big Gordon slapping at his ear. A cacophony of sound fills my own head as he screams and forces any object he can find in after me. But I am well out of reach. The noise leaves me disorientated but I remain focused. Nothing can stop me now. I latch onto his skull. Some wax remains stuck my feet and I use this to keep attached to the smooth surface. I unfurl my tongue and concentrate the stream of acid on the one spot. It burns its way through, eroding the dense bone away. I feel the hole widening under my feet.

Deeper it goes.

Deeper.

I can feel the wrinkled surface of his brain.

I am in.

Big Gordon once again falls to the ground unconscious.

His mind absorbs me.

Moths and humans are made to merge with another. Our planet's two most intelligent species coming together to create a perfect hybrid being. Big Gordon's memories play out before me intertwined with my own. My superior consciousness submerges his and I take control.