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
What a way to go. I can send my legion of butterflies after you if you like.
ReplyDelete"...it was the prettiest death I've ever died." - that sentence, I like it :) I don't suppose there are many deaths as pretty as death by butterflies.
ReplyDelete