Statement of Lucile Philips, regarding moths. Statement taken July 6, 2025.
Hello. I… don’t know why I’m here. They said you would like me. Said you wanted to listen to me. I don’t know why you’d want that. I’m not very interesting. But they tell me I am. They’re very nice.
My first memories are when I was nine. My mother gave me my first moth. A Luna moth named Luanne. She’s here with me now. I’m twenty seven now. People always say moths don’t live that long. Say that I’m crazy. Say she’s a monster. I’m a monster. But she’s so kind. How can something be a monster if it’s so kind? She gets me out of my head. When I cry. She sits on my hand and tells me it’s alright. Just like she always did.
When I was ten, my mom got sick. She made me promise to take care of the moths. I would’ve promised even if it wasn’t her dying wish. I love them. We grew close after my mother died. Me and all of them. I think it was because of isolation. They only had me, and I only had them.
They got me to eat again. To talk again. To be a person again. They taught me how to look at myself and think I’m pretty. Well, Carlos helped with that too. The cashier at the store where I would buy their food. He always called me pretty. He called my moths pretty to. That’s how I knew he had good taste in what was pretty. He had to move away a while ago. We tried to keep in touch but he met a new girl. She was also very pretty. I didn’t blame him for loving her. I would’ve loved her too. Her eyes were the color of Saturn, one of my atlas moth. I would love to meet her someday.
Now it’s just me and my moths. They live on me. They make their chrysalises in my hair. They pretend to be charms on my necklace. They make me feel very pretty, and I make them feel safe. Sometimes on cold days the little ones like being in my mouth, but they can’t be in the wet for too long. They’re very sensitive, moths.
A lot of people call me insane. You wouldn’t call me insane, would you? I’m not insane. I just like my family. My moths. They’re kind. You’d understand if you met them. But no one ever meets them. They all try to take me away, say they can fix me. Then they touch me, and I get scared, and my moths get angry, and then they’re gone. They’re not monsters. They’re just protecting me, like my mom wanted them to do. And then the police start asking me questions, and then they tell me I’m crazy, and then they grab me to take me away, and my moths get mad again, and no one listens! They love me. They just want to protect me. But no one ever listens. And the they die. I don’t want anyone to die. I just want friends. I just want family. I just want my moths. They’re kind to me. No one else is kind to me.
They say I need to make more friends. Say I’m isolating again. Say it’s not good for me. This is good for me. You know about me now. Maybe you could be my friend. We could go out for coffee sometime? I don’t know when you’re reading this, but you have my information, don’t you? I put it on the paperwork, just like you asked! You could tell me about you, since you already know about me. I’m sure you’re very pretty. I’d love to see you. My moths would to. They’re very kind, I promise!
Please? Just to talk?
Click.
I’ve sent a reply to the statement Lucile sent in. The fact she’s willing to talk more is incredibly rare around here! There might be some danger involved in speaking with her again, but it’ll be worth it! And I can defend myself if shit hits the fan, and I can’t get the fuck out. I’m good at that. Plus-
They pause.
I’ve- well, I heard of bugs similar to this. They weren’t moths, but they were documented by an intriguing individual I interviewed Errin about- I’ll have to look back at those clips, especially if she agrees to speak with me again.
I’ve told her to meet me on June 22 at Vidrum Teahouse, a favorite of mine. 11:35 AM, sharp. Hopefully she shows. I’ll be bringing the tape recorder either way. Will update if anything changes.
The recorder stops.
