A Worthy Cause

(Sometimes my creativity and imagination takes me farther than I expect, as proven by this story. I suppose you could say this is a sequel to Mosquito in the Cabin, because both personify insects. But I’ll consider it a separate story since this one has a deeper meaning. It’s an allegory– if I dare call it that.)

Imagine three cricket friends—Todd, Tessie, and Carl—relaxing under a pair of boots; a cool, dark retreat, just the way they liked it. Todd had found it first and invited Tessie and Carl to join him for a friendly chat. Carl had polished his slick armor until it even glittered in the shadows. Tessie had washed every speck of dirt off her face. All three wore thick, glistening coats of black armor, covering them from the head to the knees. With goggled eyes and wispy antennae, they could identify danger very well if needed.

Crickets aren’t born fighters, but every infant is taught how to protect itself. It’s fight or flight. With such chainmail as each cricket carries, chances of death by outward attack remain minimal. Every so often, a unfortunate fellow’s shield gets crushed, but that doesn’t mean he gives up. Oh no. A cricket suffering a lengthy death is a hero because he has not given in. Therefore, one can find various bizarre crickets that still claim to be alive, despite their grotesque appearances. For that, crickets deserve a trophy.

Well, Tessie, Carl, and Todd had not gathered to discuss this subject, but being the forward and easily provoked youth they were, they lighted upon various unpredictable subjects. They discussed and debated so capably that even the elders paused to eavesdrop. Todd claimed that the noblest death one could suffer was one of torture. And if that included losing one’s dignity, all the better. Carl scoffed at that idea. Why not rather fight for one’s life? Only weaklings died. It was the strongest, bravest crickets that survived. The death wasn’t the point; it was the full recovery that he would applaud.

Tessie’s patience ran out. “Why discuss such pointless topics? I came to have a fun party, not to discuss the best ways to die! Foolish folks the two of you are. If you keep this up, I’m leaving. It’s not very pleasant to speak of such things, especially when death isn’t even near us!” She waved her sensitive antennae to prove her point.

Carl immediately apologized and attempted a soothing symphony with his wings to make amends. But Todd added under his breath, “I guess Tessie isn’t interested in wisdom as much as we are. She’ll just be the foolish weakling.”

Carl’s music abruptly switched to an irritated screeching. He shot Todd a glittering look, warning him to be nice—or else…Sometimes crickets CAN fight. In this moment of rivalry, Tessie interrupted with a shriek of her own. Todd and Carl glared at her.

“What’s that about?” Todd snapped.

“Shhh!”

A roar shook their cozy corner. The floor beneath them trembled and in a second, their shelter vanished right above their heads. In panic, the three fled for their lives. Todd forgot about his resolve to be tortured to death. Carl forgot to fight for his life. A whirlwind-like force seemed to pull them away from the wall to which they were escaping. This was an attack unlike any of them had ever experienced, unlike any folk tale the elders had shared. They had never discussed anything like it in their trio tete-a -tetes. Their antennae and armour proved pointless in this case. Their legs could hardly pull them fast enough.

A gaping black mouth reached for Carl and the last Tessie saw of him was his two polished legs disappearing into it. “Carl!” she screamed.

 The roar seemed to swallow the atmosphere. Tessie felt gravitation towards the hole herself and it struck her with terror. She could not define the force. Todd had reached the wall, and in an insane attempt to perform the impossible, attempted to climb it. Tessie flung herself onto him in desperation.

Just as suddenly as the deafening noise had begun, it stopped. Tessie, all covered in the dust she had scrambled through, felt like all her nerves had been unwired. She gasped, “Todd! Carl’s gone! What shall we do?”

Todd remained frozen, not flinching from the crevice into which he had wedged himself between the wall and the floor. Tessie anxiously rotated her beady eyeballs and stared way up and up until she spotted a human face. The mouth was twisted into a queer smirk. Tessie had met humans before, and others had warned her about them.

As she sat there so vulnerably exposed, she thought of all the ways she had heard of humans attempting to eradicate crickets. Probably the majority of these stories had come from Todd. Some attempts included swatting crickets with meshed rubber intended to swat flies or stomping on crickets with substantial force to smash the crickets’ armour. Now the most recent ingenuity of humans included spraying RAID around and into cracks in the cement walk. As Tessie cringed under the glare of the human, she could only imagine the worst. Surely Todd wouldn’t be afraid because he had chosen to die a martyr’s death. But she had never made up her mind, for she had thought her time wouldn’t be anywhere near yet.

The human did nothing. Perhaps there was no glare; maybe it was only an amused gaze. The face seemed hazy in the distance and Tessie relaxed, wishing with all her might that Carl might be there to sing her a comforting song. She didn’t guess that her life had been spared because of sheer mercy. The human disappeared and all became still again. Finally Todd stirred and inched his way back towards Tessie. Right beside them sat the same pair of boots! How they had returned, neither could explain, but they crept gratefully underneath. As they huddled in silence, recovering from their traumatic experience, they heard a faint creaking.

“It’s Carl!” Tessie cried. “I’m sure it’s him! He’s still alive!”

They never found out whether he truly had survived or not. Maybe they had just imagined things. If he was creaking there among that dust, he must be one of the innumerable cricket heroes that has by now joined the millions of martyrs who went on before him. If only he would have died for a worthier cause! Nonetheless, he did leave an impression on the human who sucked him up with a vacuum cleaner and the humorous imagination settled to serious pondering as she considered it.

How many folks today scamper around the world like these crickets, endlessly disputing and discussing, but never living what they profess to believe? How many strive for worthless goals like beauty or fame, ignoring the impending dangers of death? Are they just hiding in their cozy nooks, going to parties, fussing over their reputation, and thinking they have it all together, yet not realizing the seriousness of life and eternity? Perhaps this world needs a thunderous, floor-shaking revival.

At some point, death will come to everyone. When that happens, no armour can stand against it. No self-righteousness, no smooth talk, no fame, no good deeds, no sparkly outfit of any kind. Nothing but Jesus’ blood can conquer death. May those who have been covered by that blood be found faithful so they will die for a worthy cause—for their Lord and Saviour!