Dialogue Essay: Pop's Narrative Fiction

Pop listened with sweet eyes and wisdom in his expression. He let Bryn settle for a moment, and they fell into silence. The fire fizzed and hissed behind Bryn, and his shadow spread over the table and crept up over Pop’s chest and neck, partially shielding him from the warm light. Pop considered his response carefully, dipping his chin into the shadow, and when he was ready, he lifted his gaze to Bryn and the fire reflected sharply in his pupils as if it were a part of his eyes.
“You can’t kill a thing like truth,” said Pop in the slow and deep tones of his heavy voice. “The problem with the truth is that it hides, and it doesn’t give a damn about whether or not you find it.”
He smiled, and shifted his voice to the tone of a storyteller.

“That’s it!” Pop celebrated, smiling at Bryn’s curious reaction.
“It’s funny though,” he continued. “Like most facts of life, there’s a deeper reality behind a moth’s suicide.”
“They’ve been around for millions of years. Much longer than people,” said Pop. “And for all that time between us and them, the only light in the world came from faraway sources like the sun and the moon. These fluttering little insects evolved to use that faraway light as their compass. It’s pretty straightforward: maintain a constant angle to the light, and travel in a straight line. Interesting, isn’t it?”
His deep voice took on an animated and captivating tone as he paced ahead. It drew Bryn in, pulling him away from his swirling mind.
“Then people arrived. We triumphed over darkness with candles and campfires. It’s what people do. We fight against what is,” he said, squinting his eyes and concentrating the fire into a tiny bright speck. “But all triumph comes with costs. The poor moth’s compass was perfect for the faraway light, but when confronted with a nearby fire, it compels a neat little spiral right into the