Taking Flight

• Sophia Marra, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2017

The soft pastel sunlight tinged the treetops, a light wind combing through the luscious green branches. The evening light streamed through the trees, glistening on the water like gems, refracting and causing a spectrum of colours to light up the lagoon. The clouds were threaded through the branches of the trees. A rainbow playfully skipped across the canopy, complementing the picturesque scene. The roots of the trees gave shelter to little ducklings and cygnets, the fish hiding in the jungle of seaweed lining the lagoon floor.
Of the many trees caving in on the lagoon, one baby branch bent away from its mother oak, on the tip, a small cocoon. Silver webs wrapped around it and glistened like diamonds as dew twirled down the cocoon until it rippled on the water.
Not far away Lizzy could be found, pencil and paper in hand. She was sketching a rather fine honeysuckle, supporting a bright yellow crest and a grand sapphire back. Her drawing wasn’t ideal. Lizzy surveyed the pile of rolled up paper she had wasted. Chucked. Screaming inside she stomped around, pulling her hair out, gritting her teeth.
Seldom did the lagoon welcome animals, as it could not tolerate one twig out of place. However, there is always a first time for everything. As the cocoon broke, you could glimpse the bright wing of a butterfly. It was waiting to see the world, as it had heard tales of flight. Slowly, it slipped out of its cocoon and clung to the remains of its home, ready to feel freedom. Ready to fly.
Meanwhile, Lizzy was angry. Really angry. Instead of an afternoon off, she was finding herself overindulged in being perfect. She sank down onto a log and stared at the ground, the afternoon light made the dirt look very much like an old film. As Lizzy stared at it, she remembered all those times when she had strived to be perfect; she had never let herself be who she wanted to be.
But the butterfly knew exactly what he wanted to be. Free. Out of the cocoon with its spindly little legs it pushed, into the air. It glided, then, falling into the water, lost hope. As it fell, it remembered the times it doubted that it would be able to fly, able to be like everyone else.
Lizzy was finished pretending to be someone else. She needed to find something she was.
Trudging through the plants, she leafed through the forest, on a mission to find where she belonged.
The small butterfly would not take it. No more doubts. It was going to fly once and for all. With more power than it had believed it could muster, it whirled up into the warm evening air.
Lizzy glanced up at the treetops to see a butterfly, soaring through the air at ease. She laughed in spite of herself and chased it through the plants; she had found her heart. She had found who she was.