Butterfly Paragraph Submission, By Sara MacPhee
Butterflies are supposed to be beautiful, a sacred omen of change, pied beauty at its most glorious height. As a young girl, I chased you from grass blade to leaf-palm, as if I could somehow absorb those dazzling colors and make them my own. Not shy, you would invariably alight upon some natural pedestal and sit, basking in my wide-eyed idolatry. Eventually boredom, or a whim would take hold and you would be aloft, bobbing your way toward blue sky and cotton clouds that, like you, were the essence of childhood summer memories.
Not you, not now. You are no longer the brilliant, swooping cloud-dancer of my youth. The secret spinning of your dark cocoon that you placed in my throat years ago has bloomed, and I am left corrupted. I am no longer star-struck by your beauty; I am awe-struck by the sheer force of your power. It is true what they say: a single wing-stroke from you has the power to create a hurricane on the other side of the world. I know this because my life has become that storm. A dark creation has emerged; unfurling wings not of gossamer, but malignant decay. My beautiful butterfly, a macabre and twisted harbinger of change that steals my voice and leaves me breathless.
Sara MacPhee (sadiemac)
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