Prisoner
Stella left and I got out of bed. I walked outside but fell right on my head on the dirt ground. I guess no one noticed because there were others on the ground, too. My eyes were open and I could still feel and hear, so I knew I wasn’t dead. I watched as a small butterfly, brown and black land on my nose. I was already statue still so it flapped on my nostrils and the tingling of its antennas on my nose. I saw this as a sign. Butterflies meant resurrection. When the American soldier came over to me and crouched down, automatically spoon feeding me, I know I was no longer a prisoner, but a new me.
Fashion Designer
It was extremely not safe to say that I was not doing too well. I wanted to stomp my Mary Janes on the ground but that would mess up my heels. I could not think of an ideas for the new anklet that my best client wanted. I was walking back to the studio when a butterfly landed on my shoulder. My first thought was to scream but it’s blue mirror designed wings flapped and I saw the purple on the other side. Immediately I got an idea for the perfect anklet. It would have a indigo and baby blue butterfly in the center just like the one on my shoulder. Around it the anklet would be little yellow mirror designs to make it seem like a reflection. “Thank you.” I told the butterfly as it flew off of me.
A Blind Peron
I was being led by a kind woman in the train station. She was leading me to the post office across the street. I gripped her like an iron band. She guided me, I hoped, to the right direction. I was blind. Yes, like a bat. I could see very blurry things though. I was shuffling my feet because I didn’t want to take too why steps and bump into anything. I knew we made it outside when the hot air hit my face, the honking of the horns blasted in my ears and I could hear the clicking of me and the woman’s shoes. All of a sudden she yelled, “Stop.” I stood statue still and felt her release her my hand from my arm. “There’s a butterfly and you were about to step on.” I didn’t respond. I felt her crouch down and I looked down through blur to see her fuzzy body bend down. “Here, feel it.” The kind woman grabbed my hand and reached it out. My hand fell onto something rubbery and fuzzy. I couldn’t get enough of the feel. I used both my hands and touched the wings as it flapped on me. The woman moved my hand so that I felt the flickering of the antennas. “Wow.” I mumbled.
A Child
“Mommy. I want that one.” The little boy pointed his chubby finger at the little yellow and black butterfly. It looked magical. Days ago he had come here with Daddy and he was sure there was a worm in that tank. He didn’t see a way out so obviously the butterfly had magical powers. The little watched as the butterfly flew around flapping his wings. He plastered his face onto the glass and his widened as the butterfly landed on the leaf right in front of him. He got a look at the ugly fuzzy face, the huge eyes, the curled thing where it’s eyes nose should be and the ears sticking up. He turned back to his mommy and yelled, “nevermind!”
A Dying Person
A Cat
Sebastian jumped up on his back feet to catch the flapping orange winged things in his space. Every time he attempted for his paws to catch it, it would fly higher up. After a few last tries, Sebastian grew tired and slid down and rest his head on his arm. When he closed his eyes the butterfly on his moist nose. Sebastian opened one sleepy eye and then attempted to wack the butterfly. He only managed to hit his nose.
A Poet
I had travelled places upon places for inspiration. Nothing spoke to me. Some how I had ended up at the Museum. I walked around and looked for it but nothing shone bright enough. Up on the third floor was the Life Cycle exhibit. When the elevator dinged I stepped out and found myself taking a short cut through the butterfly exhibit. I got my inspiration that day. It was from a butterfly. This butterfly wouldn’t move as much as the others but it didn’t seem to mind. It continued to eat off the leaf an occasionally looked around. I found myself intrigued by this butterfly. I sat in front of it and wrote how I thought this butterfly felt and what was thinking. Before I knew it, my work was in the Sunday Paper.
A Shut-In
I had been diagnosed with a an extreme phobia called Agoraphobia. In other words, I was afraid to leave the house. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t bring the outside to me. Only the clean part of course. Downstairs I had an emporium of flowers and leaves and insects, mostly butterflies. I had a favorite butterfly. I named her Bee. She was all black except for one yellow line that went down each wing. When I went downstairs, Bee was missing. I searched high and low for her. Frustrated beyond belief I went back upstairs to see Bee on the window sill, outside. I love this butterfly with all my heart but the thought of going outside just to save her did not bode well with me. Essentially, I was terrified. But, Bee looked caught on the net of the window. I touched the door and it felt like a burn through my veins. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened the door. I peeked through one eye and found Bee. When I went to scoop her up, she flew away. Thus began me chasing Bee and Bee teaching me to get over my fear.
Nineteen forty-five in the concentration camp named Auschwitz. Years from now this camp would be named the worst camp ever during the holocaust. I would be alive to see it. I woke up one morning, that was a relief. It was awfully quiet. That was different. Usually, my kin and I heard gunshots, piercing screams, the thud of people falling on the ground. But today, it was quiet. “Pappa. Wake up! America is here.” My little granddaughter said to me. She was skin and bones, as was I. I think I was more bone than skin. Where as Stella was more skin than bone. She had broken at least four ribs and her big toe on her left foot. I would know, I used to be a doctor.
Stella left and I got out of bed. I walked outside but fell right on my head on the dirt ground. I guess no one noticed because there were others on the ground, too. My eyes were open and I could still feel and hear, so I knew I wasn’t dead. I watched as a small butterfly, brown and black land on my nose. I was already statue still so it flapped on my nostrils and the tingling of its antennas on my nose. I saw this as a sign. Butterflies meant resurrection. When the American soldier came over to me and crouched down, automatically spoon feeding me, I know I was no longer a prisoner, but a new me.
Fashion Designer
It was extremely not safe to say that I was not doing too well. I wanted to stomp my Mary Janes on the ground but that would mess up my heels. I could not think of an ideas for the new anklet that my best client wanted. I was walking back to the studio when a butterfly landed on my shoulder. My first thought was to scream but it’s blue mirror designed wings flapped and I saw the purple on the other side. Immediately I got an idea for the perfect anklet. It would have a indigo and baby blue butterfly in the center just like the one on my shoulder. Around it the anklet would be little yellow mirror designs to make it seem like a reflection. “Thank you.” I told the butterfly as it flew off of me.
A Blind Peron
I was being led by a kind woman in the train station. She was leading me to the post office across the street. I gripped her like an iron band. She guided me, I hoped, to the right direction. I was blind. Yes, like a bat. I could see very blurry things though. I was shuffling my feet because I didn’t want to take too why steps and bump into anything. I knew we made it outside when the hot air hit my face, the honking of the horns blasted in my ears and I could hear the clicking of me and the woman’s shoes. All of a sudden she yelled, “Stop.” I stood statue still and felt her release her my hand from my arm. “There’s a butterfly and you were about to step on.” I didn’t respond. I felt her crouch down and I looked down through blur to see her fuzzy body bend down. “Here, feel it.” The kind woman grabbed my hand and reached it out. My hand fell onto something rubbery and fuzzy. I couldn’t get enough of the feel. I used both my hands and touched the wings as it flapped on me. The woman moved my hand so that I felt the flickering of the antennas. “Wow.” I mumbled.
A Child
“Mommy. I want that one.” The little boy pointed his chubby finger at the little yellow and black butterfly. It looked magical. Days ago he had come here with Daddy and he was sure there was a worm in that tank. He didn’t see a way out so obviously the butterfly had magical powers. The little watched as the butterfly flew around flapping his wings. He plastered his face onto the glass and his widened as the butterfly landed on the leaf right in front of him. He got a look at the ugly fuzzy face, the huge eyes, the curled thing where it’s eyes nose should be and the ears sticking up. He turned back to his mommy and yelled, “nevermind!”
A Dying Person
“Doctor. Something is on my chest. I can’t reach it.” Sarah said. She lay in her bed waiting for an Angel to call her name and meet with God.
“It’s a butterfly, Mrs. White.” Her doctor said to her. The butterfly flew right onto her finger, which he lifted to her face to get a better look at. It was all blue with an outline of black. So beautiful, Sarah thought.
“What’s it doing here?” She asked.
The doctor shrugged. “It may be time, Mrs. White.”
“Time? How do you know?” Sarah looked down at the butterfly wondering how this thing was the symbol to her death.
“In many cultures, it is believed that the butterfly is associated with the soul. They think that when you see a butterfly it is carrying the soul of a person who is dead. This must be a new one and is coming to collect your soul. But that’s just a myth.” The doctor shrugged then left Sarah with the butterfly.
When she returned, the butterfly was gone, as was Sarah’s heartbeat.
Sebastian jumped up on his back feet to catch the flapping orange winged things in his space. Every time he attempted for his paws to catch it, it would fly higher up. After a few last tries, Sebastian grew tired and slid down and rest his head on his arm. When he closed his eyes the butterfly on his moist nose. Sebastian opened one sleepy eye and then attempted to wack the butterfly. He only managed to hit his nose.
A Poet
I had travelled places upon places for inspiration. Nothing spoke to me. Some how I had ended up at the Museum. I walked around and looked for it but nothing shone bright enough. Up on the third floor was the Life Cycle exhibit. When the elevator dinged I stepped out and found myself taking a short cut through the butterfly exhibit. I got my inspiration that day. It was from a butterfly. This butterfly wouldn’t move as much as the others but it didn’t seem to mind. It continued to eat off the leaf an occasionally looked around. I found myself intrigued by this butterfly. I sat in front of it and wrote how I thought this butterfly felt and what was thinking. Before I knew it, my work was in the Sunday Paper.
A Shut-In
I had been diagnosed with a an extreme phobia called Agoraphobia. In other words, I was afraid to leave the house. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t bring the outside to me. Only the clean part of course. Downstairs I had an emporium of flowers and leaves and insects, mostly butterflies. I had a favorite butterfly. I named her Bee. She was all black except for one yellow line that went down each wing. When I went downstairs, Bee was missing. I searched high and low for her. Frustrated beyond belief I went back upstairs to see Bee on the window sill, outside. I love this butterfly with all my heart but the thought of going outside just to save her did not bode well with me. Essentially, I was terrified. But, Bee looked caught on the net of the window. I touched the door and it felt like a burn through my veins. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened the door. I peeked through one eye and found Bee. When I went to scoop her up, she flew away. Thus began me chasing Bee and Bee teaching me to get over my fear.
Workaholic
“You work too much.” Ray said to Cynthia
“No such thing.” Cynthia said behind her back.
“But really it is. You’re so into your life you didn’t even look at your neck today, did you?”
“No. Why would I?” She tapped away on her computer never peeking down at her neck.
“If I asked for a divorce would you stop typing?” Ray asked. Cynthia stopped typing.
“Of course.”
“Then look at your neck.” Cynthia looked into her husband’s and made sure he had no guilt or regret in them. When she was satisfied she look down at her neck. Around it was a long chain that held a Monarch butterfly whose ruby eyes twinkled up at her. “You know butterflies represent the soul. I would never leave you. You are my butterfly. Even though you hardly take your eyes off a screen of document.”
Cynthia smiled, the first time since the day started.
Alien
On Earth, Sabriajefkjuga took the appearance of a homeless man living on the streets. He didn’t mean to. The man was the closest thing to unconscious he could get. When Sabriajefkjuga was satisfied with his appearance. That was until a weird flapping contraption landing in his hair. He began to shake and swat at it until it landed on his nose. The insect and Sabriajefkjuga stared at eachother until he could hear the buzzing and he slapped his nose multiple times before running away like a crazy person.
“You work too much.” Ray said to Cynthia
“No such thing.” Cynthia said behind her back.
“But really it is. You’re so into your life you didn’t even look at your neck today, did you?”
“No. Why would I?” She tapped away on her computer never peeking down at her neck.
“If I asked for a divorce would you stop typing?” Ray asked. Cynthia stopped typing.
“Of course.”
“Then look at your neck.” Cynthia looked into her husband’s and made sure he had no guilt or regret in them. When she was satisfied she look down at her neck. Around it was a long chain that held a Monarch butterfly whose ruby eyes twinkled up at her. “You know butterflies represent the soul. I would never leave you. You are my butterfly. Even though you hardly take your eyes off a screen of document.”
Cynthia smiled, the first time since the day started.
Alien
On Earth, Sabriajefkjuga took the appearance of a homeless man living on the streets. He didn’t mean to. The man was the closest thing to unconscious he could get. When Sabriajefkjuga was satisfied with his appearance. That was until a weird flapping contraption landing in his hair. He began to shake and swat at it until it landed on his nose. The insect and Sabriajefkjuga stared at eachother until he could hear the buzzing and he slapped his nose multiple times before running away like a crazy person.
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