The winter had been long and dull, and this walk was my first since the blizzarding stopped. Suddenly, there came in the sky a butterfly, blue and black and beautiful. I chased it through the wood, never caring about where it was taking me or why.
It found a house and darted inside—I followed suit. The hallway was filled with hundreds of butterflies, all nestling on the walls. They seemed to sense that there was a foreign thing among them. Suddenly, they all left their wall in a tornado of color. They smothered me.
I died. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last—but may I just say, it was the prettiest death I’ve ever died.
Read the other responses:
Kat!e Larson - katesnovelidea.blogspot.com
Lady Violet - ladyvioletsblog.blogspot.com
Ginny Romney - romneyrants.blogspot.com
Brianne Dosch - heartmindthoughtsemotions.blogspot.com
Tiffany Jones - http://rudwrite.blogspot.com