Vanish like butterflies.
I giggle and laugh at the funny things that tickle my nose. They flutter away as I swat at them and sit on the tree as if they are nothing wrong. I glare at them and they fly at me again, tickling my nose and getting caught in my hair. I shake my head to dislodge them and they flutter off to the tree again, their white wings settling into the pale blossoms which wave in the wind.
I stare at the hidden butterflies, watching flowers fall gently to the ground. I don't notice as some settle on my hair, both petals and insects.
I feel something crawling on my head and swat at it, disturbing butterflies and blossoms. They swarm around me and I try to catch one, my hands grasping around air.
My fingers form a cage as I grasp onto air and then I feel a flutter against my palm.
I caught one!!
I peer into the makeshift cage, it's wings fluttering against my hands, brushing lightly and tickling. I smile as I observe it through the bars of my fingers.
I don't pay attention and my fingers widen slightly allowing it to be freed. It flutters off with the others, the only trace that it was one and not many, the dust left on my hands.
I try to brush off the powder it left on my palms and fingers, but it sticks stubbornly. I wonder at how something so fragile could leave something so lasting.
I wipe my hands on my clothes and stare up at the little creatures again, high above me in the trees.
I smile at them, pleased at how they look against the blossoms, and I climb up to be surrounded by white flowers and butterflies.
It's pretty here up in the tree, everything is white. All around me, a springtime winter. I giggle when they flutter by me, butterfly and bloom.
I laugh as they settle on me, covering me in quivering bodies, fragrant flowers.
I go there the next day, but most of the flowers are gone, a few still lingering on the branches, butterflies outnumbering blossoms.
I try to climb up but I slip, sending all the remaining flowers down to the ground. I cry at the tragic end of these flowers.
I return and all the flowers are gone. I climb up to the butterflies, still perched on the branches but they flap away, hovering in the distance till I can't see them.
I slip down, onto the ground. The petals have vanished, gone just like the butterflies, quickly and silently.
I look into the distance and wander around the garden, but there are no more flowers or flightly things.
They both vanished like butterflies. Faded to dust, flown away to nothing.
Normal result
Alternative result
I stand there, the dust of the dead already swirling around me. It's dead, gone, but unlike the beautiful things, not missed.
I put away my sword and head back, memories of butterflies and blossoms fading away to dust left behind.
End
I stand there, silent. It was like all the other beautiful things, fragile and temporary. It's beauty and it's passing to be apprieciated. Every moment to be treasured and saved, for who knew if it would ever happen again?
I hadn't saved every moment. I hadn't savoured the beauty till it was almost too late. It saddened me, only knowing this after it all had happened.
I placed the blossoms down, the scroll fluttering in the wind, a black that would fade to grey, paper that would dissolve.
For beauty that vanishes, vanishes like butterflies.
I stand back and walk away, tears forming. Tears for beauty, tears for love, tears for the springtime blossoms and butterflies. Tears for her.
End
