The Butterfly That Can Never Fly

• Vu Thao Vy Doan, Grade 11, Chisholm Catholic College -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

In a corner of the world, flowers are blooming zealously after a bleak winter. A butterfly spotted amidst the endless flowerbed, is a subject of admiration. The butterfly’s simple yet intricate beauty is incomparable to the dazzling sunlight or the gentle glow of the moon. Like a breath of air, its presence cannot be captured, but it leaves a touch of cool refreshment on the skin. The exquisite creature drifts across the myriad hues of flowers, feasting on their sweet nectar. It sings the melody of praise in a flower’s ear and whispers a delightful tune in another ear.
“O Lily of the Valley, your ethereal aroma is known across this valley. Please allow me to spread your pollens in exchange for your finest nectar.”
“My Lady Nightshade, queen of this valley. Those who haven’t seen your sublime violet shade must be blind to themselves. Give me your pollens and I’ll tell the world of your beauty.”
As sunlight retreats to the horizon, the butterfly returns with an ample amount of nectar. Its children, a pair of chrysalises, are safely wrapped in the silky cocoons. They feed upon the honeyed nectar and the sweet, dark lies weaved by the butterfly.
Albeit the serenity this valley offers, the butterfly is not happy. Its ambition extends beyond this remote corner towards the boundless azure sky. A whirlwind comes and answers the butterfly’s wish. It has the power to take the butterfly to Promised Land.
“O mighty wind I admire your handsomeness. Your fine breed and strength are unprecedented. Take me to Promised Land and my heart will belong to you.”
The flattering words of such frail creature melt the wind’s cold heart. It carries the butterfly and chrysalis pair across the infinite landscapes of the wild. A scene of snowflakes twirling from the ash-grey sky welcomes the weary settlers.
Winter has begun in Promised Land.
Spring comes, and the butterfly resumes its ordinary task. It sweeps through the outstretched meadow and ingratiates with the land’s gorgeous flowers. Unexpectedly, a pungent odour of the unfamiliar flowers nauseates the butterfly. In a blink of an eye, the air of cordiality is extinguished. But, the butterfly is determined to cling to the thin beam of hope that would allow its children to thrive and prosper in this foreign land.
As the crack in the cocoons gradually emerges, so does the crack in the butterfly’s perpetual allure. The wind has become uncontrollably violent which renders the butterfly miserably afraid. Like a Portulaca flower whose life blooms only once at 10 o’clock, the butterfly’s youthful exterior collapses once the hour hand moves past that crucial moment.
When the crimson curtain is slowly descending towards the butterfly’s ending stage, it catches a glimpse into the life it leaves behind. The chrysalises soar across the sky, and their mother is forgotten underneath a layer of dirt.