Fireflies in the Dark: A Tribute to Bray Wyatt

I wasn’t going to write today.

But then we lost Bray.

There are some performers who transcend the ring and become more than just athletes. Bray’s mystique and captivating storytelling, undoubtedly made him one of those figures. His unexpected passing has left our community mourning the loss of one of our great wrestling minds who managed to weave enchanting narratives that gripped wrestling fans worldwide.

Bray used the canvas like a true artist, painting his stories with the strokes of a genius. He was the cult leader I would have followed willingly, especially during an "era of lies" where authenticity seemed scarce. In moments when watching WWE grew challenging, his segments became my refuge – a place to immerse myself and search for hidden gems within his narrative. The most recent version of Bray walked down that ramp every week and relayed the same message, and yet, we were still right there, in the palm of his hands. This wasn't just charisma; it was a connection that few could forge. He was an inspiration to anyone who has lost their way, a guiding light amidst the darkness.

Many likened him to the Undertaker but, for me, he was this generations Mick Foley. A man of many faces, he was a unique fusion of wrestling brilliance and raw charisma. The juxtaposition of his eerie presence with a touch of humanity made him a character like few others. My favourite Bray, Firefly Funhouse Bray, was Mr. Rogers-esque, a blend of warmth and macabre that shouldn't have worked, but did – brilliantly.

The night he won the WWE Championship at Elimination Chamber (2017) is etched into my memory – a moment of triumph that stood as a testament to his talent and dedication. I can vividly recall the chills that ran down my spine as I witnessed The Fiend's debut at Summerslam (2019). The classic horror ambiance he effortlessly created became a hallmark of his performances. The Firefly Funhouse match vs John Cena (Wrestlemania 36, 2020) remains one of my favourites. It wasn't for everyone, but for those who understood its depth, it was a masterpiece. It was a match that came at a time where the world was shut down and we needed an escape from reality. Bray knew his audience – those loyal viewers who craved acknowledgment, who searched for Easter eggs and subtle nods (along with some not-so-subtle winks to camera, talking directly to his fans). Bray Wyatt dared to be bold. In a time when creativity often felt stifled, he fearlessly injected his character with veiled jabs at WWE creative. The Vince McMahon puppet with little devil horns was a testament to his audacity. He thrived on speculation and anticipation, drawing fans into conversations about the identities of the wrestlers behind the puppets and the possibility of a Wyatt Six faction. Bray was more than a performer; he was an architect of engagement.

Beyond his character, Windham was a person who was loved and respected. To his father Mike, his brother Bo, his wife Jojo, and to his children, my heart goes out. The Wyatt family, both the on-screen and off-screen versions, has suffered profound losses with the passing of Brodie and now Bray.

As I watched the tribute videos and teary messages this morning, I stumbled upon his return speech following Extreme Rules and the words he left us with, "This is a version of me that I’ve never got to introduce to you guys before, this is just me… being me, genuine me, for the first time." Those words echo a sentiment many can relate to – the search for authenticity in a world that often demands conformity.

To Bray, thank you for the stories, the captivating moments, the suspense, the pops, your unapologetic creativity and your beautiful mind and thank you, for being you. You always mattered to us and as the fireflies fade off screen, your legacy will continue to shine brightly in the hearts of your fans worldwide.

With pins, submissions, and some tears,

Chloe xoxo

25.08.2023