The Mothfather
By Mark Rogers
The Northern Forest in the land of the Southwestern Bellows is well known to be a nexus of mysterious occurrences and unexplained phenomena, for within these woods dwell hidden folk, unkindly magickal spirits, and even Gods. Rudolph Darkwood, born on the very edge of this forest, which was his namesake, was a lepidopterist (a person who studies and collects moths and butterflies). Rudolph loved these winged insects and was hunting for unusual specimens when, like so many others before him, he became lost. Rudolph was fond of singing, so for hours he sang to both maintain his mood and in hopes that someone might find him. But it wasn’t long before he felt the forest’s “otherness” closing in--before he felt as if he was being stalked.
Disoriented by eerie rustlings, audible breathings, and the sight of surreal glowing orbs, he ran through the woods in a state of frantic terror. Rudolph alternated between fleeing and hiding. As the days passed and hunger battled sleeplessness, he witnessed all manner of strange things: the ghosts of early people long forgotten, a troop of diminutive candle-bearing entities marching in single file, and for an entire night felt that he was being pursued by a hairy man the size of a bear with yellow eyes and a dreadful odor. On the third day--or it could have been the fourth or fifth--something swooped down from the black canopy above and flew away with him.
At some point, Rudolph lost consciousness, for he awoke to find himself in the shelter of a cave, bathed in the warm glow of a fire. Next to where he lay was a bowl of what appeared to be fresh meat. Mad with hunger, Rudolph began devouring the meal before realizing he wasn’t alone. Something was sitting on the other side of the fire. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a moth of tremendous size, a specimen larger than any known bird, larger than a person, something prehistoric. Most would be horrified, but Rudolph was not afraid, for he revered moths. The Moth began to speak to him in an alien language of clicking and buzzing sounds, and somehow, Rudolph understood the creature perfectly.
As he ate his meal, the Moth shared its wisdom with the lepidopterist. He claimed to be one of the Old Gods, but sadly forgotten, no longer worshiped, and therefore dying. The creature told Rudolph that he had chosen him to be his successor. He then told Rudolph that the meal he had just consumed was the Old God’s very heart, and with that, the creature fell over dead.
Astonished and horrified by the macabre revelation, Rudolph Darkwood was overtaken by a sudden and unnatural sleep. A silky substance oozed from his pores, forming a cocoon around his being, and his body began a transformation. The metamorphosis took a year and a day, and when he emerged from the cocoon, he was neither human nor moth, but something new: a new God.
Some call him the Mothfather, for he is said to be a friend and father-figure to all moths and similar winged insects. It is said that if you are lost in the Northern Forests in the land of the Southwestern Bellows and light a candle and sing his song, he will come and guide you safely home. It is also said that if you harm a moth--even unintentionally--while in the Darkwood, the Mothfather will find you. And eat your heart.
I choose a really woodsy frame for this one to match the setting.
* This painting was created for a group show entitled: “Forest Myths” opening January 10th, 2026, at Brassworks Gallery in Portland, OR (dang I miss that city).
*Despite being a standalone painting, I could see this one in a full series with a more expanded story….I haven’t decided yet if that’s the way to go, but we will see.