Said the Moth to the Butterfly
"Said the Moth to the Butterfly"
Written by: Lanyka Lincoln
Cool summers winds breeze along the path of Salianus, children
playing, laughing, and enjoying their innocents while they still can.
(Cool summers. Blue Summers. Legato Blue Summers...)
Innocents. Vash... Vash looks innocent and even acts like it but he is
an adult... I don't understand. An unknown object fluttering in front
of my face suddenly awaked me. It was a butterfly. A beautiful one at
that; it had bright vivid bluish color at the rim and center of it's
wings, and shiny ebony black that entire most of it's cute, tiny
petite body. I continued to go walk and it followed. I tried ignoring
it, it probably think I have some food inside my pocket or
something...but I just remembered I didn't carry any food with me. Oh
well...maybe it's curious. I noticed it was getting weak, it was flying
so low to the ground, gliding most of the time just to save energy for
another chance to catch up to me.
Finally, I gave up and hauled for the butterfly; it slowly yet
pitifully landed on my arm then gracefully flapped its little delicate
wings. I watched curiously as I held "him" cautiously in the palm of
hand, a smiled which slowly smeared across my face quickly fades when
I noticed something was wrong.
"Whatcha doing?" a familiar cheerful voice spoke, "Is that a bug
your holding in a hand?"
I could hear his footsteps coming toward me, then it stopped, "It is a
bug, isn't it? I never thought a girl would be fascinated by bugs,
mostly girls are afraid of them."
He marched over to me hoping for me to say something but I remind
focus on the weak creature.
"It's a butterfly," he said quietly, "its-its dying."
His wings were now lying flat on the palm of my hands, slightly moving
but not enough to show improvement then it suddenly stopped.
"He's dead." I spoke in a dry, flat voice.
I couldn't believe it. It was weird, the whole thing was weird; "he"
died in my hands.
Suddenly my body felt heavy that I dropped gently to the ground still
holding the lifeless creature, and my eyes still glued to its former
shell.
Why am I feeling like this?
It's just a damn butterfly, its not like I've seen a butterfly
anywhere else.
So, why am I so sad?
Why am I upset?
Isn't it because how "he" died or the way "he" died?
I don't understand...
"I don't understand" I spoke out loud, "I don't understand... why
did it die?
I could hear weighed press against the wooden broads even though my
head remind bowed toward the dead butterfly, I knew it was Vash
sitting on the steps.
"There could be many reasons, "He spoke softly, "It—"
"He." I interrupted, "It's a boy."
"Oh. Right. He could have flown miles from here and died from
exhaustion or his metamorphose stage had a genetic error which the
side affect made his life span short that he could live only a week or
two."
"How can that be possible?" I said softly, "When I was young, people
would tell about butterflies but they never told me how long they
live."
Vash was silent.
"But you know, they truly represent what reality is like, that beauty
never last forever." I said flatly.
"That's—that's not true." Vash said.
"Then prove it!!" I cried, finally looking up at him, I could see pain
in his face.
I continued, "You and I both know its true." I looked down that the
butterfly again.
"Maybe he came to me because it was desperate and wanted to reach out
for someone. He knew he was dying but he didn't what to die alone." I
bent over a little, "How come butterflies can't have longer life
spans?"
"Said the Moth to the Butterfly"
Written by: Lanyka Lincoln
Cool summers winds breeze along the path of Salianus, children
playing, laughing, and enjoying their innocents while they still can.
(Cool summers. Blue Summers. Legato Blue Summers...)
Innocents. Vash... Vash looks innocent and even acts like it but he is
an adult... I don't understand. An unknown object fluttering in front
of my face suddenly awaked me. It was a butterfly. A beautiful one at
that; it had bright vivid bluish color at the rim and center of it's
wings, and shiny ebony black that entire most of it's cute, tiny
petite body. I continued to go walk and it followed. I tried ignoring
it, it probably think I have some food inside my pocket or
something...but I just remembered I didn't carry any food with me. Oh
well...maybe it's curious. I noticed it was getting weak, it was flying
so low to the ground, gliding most of the time just to save energy for
another chance to catch up to me.
Finally, I gave up and hauled for the butterfly; it slowly yet
pitifully landed on my arm then gracefully flapped its little delicate
wings. I watched curiously as I held "him" cautiously in the palm of
hand, a smiled which slowly smeared across my face quickly fades when
I noticed something was wrong.
"Whatcha doing?" a familiar cheerful voice spoke, "Is that a bug
your holding in a hand?"
I could hear his footsteps coming toward me, then it stopped, "It is a
bug, isn't it? I never thought a girl would be fascinated by bugs,
mostly girls are afraid of them."
He marched over to me hoping for me to say something but I remind
focus on the weak creature.
"It's a butterfly," he said quietly, "its-its dying."
His wings were now lying flat on the palm of my hands, slightly moving
but not enough to show improvement then it suddenly stopped.
"He's dead." I spoke in a dry, flat voice.
I couldn't believe it. It was weird, the whole thing was weird; "he"
died in my hands.
Suddenly my body felt heavy that I dropped gently to the ground still
holding the lifeless creature, and my eyes still glued to its former
shell.
Why am I feeling like this?
It's just a damn butterfly, its not like I've seen a butterfly
anywhere else.
So, why am I so sad?
Why am I upset?
Isn't it because how "he" died or the way "he" died?
I don't understand...
"I don't understand" I spoke out loud, "I don't understand... why
did it die?
I could hear weighed press against the wooden broads even though my
head remind bowed toward the dead butterfly, I knew it was Vash
sitting on the steps.
"There could be many reasons, "He spoke softly, "It—"
"He." I interrupted, "It's a boy."
"Oh. Right. He could have flown miles from here and died from
exhaustion or his metamorphose stage had a genetic error which the
side affect made his life span short that he could live only a week or
two."
"How can that be possible?" I said softly, "When I was young, people
would tell about butterflies but they never told me how long they
live."
Vash was silent.
"But you know, they truly represent what reality is like, that beauty
never last forever." I said flatly.
"That's—that's not true." Vash said.
"Then prove it!!" I cried, finally looking up at him, I could see pain
in his face.
I continued, "You and I both know its true." I looked down that the
butterfly again.
"Maybe he came to me because it was desperate and wanted to reach out
for someone. He knew he was dying but he didn't what to die alone." I
bent over a little, "How come butterflies can't have longer life
spans?"