Needle and Thread by Jessica Sajovie

Something fluttered in the corner of Erica's eye.  Suddenly on guard, she launched herself from the couch cushion with amazing speed, and grabbed the nearest weapon to hand, a rolled up magazine from the Saturday paper.  She wasn't keen on any winged insect, but she had a special terror of moths.  Lepidopterophobia was the scientific term, but there was no sense sticking a fancy Latin name (or maybe it was Ancient Greek) on something that primal.  Fear was what it was, pure and simple.  The thought of their horrible scratchy papery wings made Erica's skin crawl.

Creeping cautiously over to the window, she raised the magazine above her head, ready to bash it down on anything that moved.  She gave the curtain an experimental tap with the magazine, and again produced a flutter, though she really only saw the initial tremble before somehow leaping halfway across the room, hiding behind the high edge of the couch, and allowing only her eyes to peer out.  The movement had stopped again.

Erica knew she was being ridiculous.  She never should have faced up against something like this without a more substantial weapon.  Running into her bedroom backwards, while keeping a wary eye aimed at the curtain, she emerged with the baseball bat she kept under her bed for emergencies such as this.  Well, butterflies, burglars, zombie attacks; all the usual contingencies a 20-something year old woman living alone might have to face.  She hadn't played baseball since she was a kid, but she still had a wicked swing when adrenaline spurred her on.  Determined to rid herself of the invader once and for all, as night was coming, and there was no way Erica would be able to sleep with that creature in the house, she marched back into the living room, and hefting the bat in one hand, her heart racing, she grabbed the curtain and gave it a good firm shake.  It was then that Erica noticed her rather aged curtains had developed a small tear along the edge, which must have been gently quivering in the breeze.  This then, was her moth.

Weak with relief, Erica shook her head at her own foolishness, and reached up to unclip the curtain from the rail, so she could mend it.  As she did so, her arm brushed against the curtain, and she felt a sudden velvety sensation against her skin.  Looking down, she saw it.  There, perched in the folds of the curtain, lurked a large white cabbage moth.  Thud!  Erica passed out, her head safely coming to rest on the thick, shaggy carpet.  The cabbage moth flapped its wings softly, and calmly flew out the open window into the balmy night air.