I knew I wasn't the only one who was upset about Quinn basically being shrugged off throughout the whole Back Nine. I'm shaking my fist at you, writers! On a completely different note, I want to give a shout out to cuzifeellikeit, GentleReader, wee birdy, and for consistently leaving me some of the sweetest, most encouraging reviews ever! If it wasn't for you guys, I'd probably only update about once a month! So thank you guys so much, as well to the rest of you readers and reviewers of this series! I truly appreciate it! Anyways, onto the drabble. Quinn assumes things, then unknowingly lives them. Inside the mind of seven-year-old Q.
Butterflies
Quinn likes butterflies. She thinks she could have been one.
But when she tells her parents, they scold her and force her never to say such a thing again. (Christians don't believe in reincarnation.)
So even though she's not supposed to believe in it, it still doesn't stop her from chasing them around the playground. She doesn't tell anybody and she probably never will, but her stomach flutters every time she sees one; she giggles and laughs and follows it through the sky, pointing her finger and tracing its path.
Quinn knows a little more than she lets on.
She knows the color of its wings. Not just the purple and the orange. She knows the entire spectrum of its sadness. She knows the vivid rainbow of its anger. It's a multitude of facades and iridescence that takes her to the edge and leaves her dangling there.
Then she learns that they don't start out as butterflies. They begin as caterpillars, and her face shatters because they're so much uglier. Quinn doesn't like butterflies too much after that because who wants to start out so ugly? It's a transformation, her second grade teacher tells her, but by that time, she's lost interest. She doesn't have enough patience to deal with a creature who takes a good amount of its lifetime to grow into something more beautiful.
But that's like saying hey pot, kettle's calling.
Thanks for reading! Review if you can, please.
