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lyrical trance & dark mythic/transgressive fiction by lilimist
the butterfly vow by lilimist
A romantic creation myth about a butterfly who wakes up from her cocoon too late and a star who falls to earth to save her.
{ first written & released by Vixen Phillips in 2004 }
But the butterfly had gone, his heart and wings almost numbed by terror and the fresh onslaught of a chill wind that had begun to howl through the entire forest. He flew for both life and sanity, and never once stopped to catch his breath or rest, not until he fell into a fit of sobs at the feet of his now-withered daffodil.
“Oh, golden princess, how I pray you are only sleeping, just like you said! Winter has made the world’s heart so cold, and yours so pure. How I long to see you again!”
And he glanced across at the cocoon, which still trembled but as yet held his sister safe. And then came his five breathing siblings from the forest, gathered close and shivering as the wind blew straight through them.
“Perhaps,” he said now, “it would be better if she didn’t wake.”
“Our hearts are pure.” His youngest brother spoke softly, and, at his side, his eldest sister nodded her head.
“Perhaps we shall see her next year.”
The others then began to dance a little excitedly, murmuring, “Yes, yes! Next year! Next year! Next year, it will be spring again!”
And the eldest butterfly smiled, though his own heart was breaking, for he saw how his siblings tried so hard to cheer him. With a sad sigh he followed them into the long grasses that grew wild but nearly frozen by the edge of the stream, and he lay there awake while the others curled up with kisses and wished one another the sweetest of dreams. Soon, all but he were fast asleep, so deep in slumber even their hearts could not be heard to beat. Twilight was brief, and silent, for the nightingale made no appearance that eve, and then the night was fast upon them, and the butterfly heard the cocoon trembling louder, but it took all the energy he could muster just to keep himself awake.
“Please, little sister,” he began to pray now, “the world is much crueller than you deserve. And all alone, you may not survive. Please, go back to sleep.”
Just as his eyelids began flickering closed, a soft voice whispered close to his heart, “You did not think to ask me. Might not I watch over her, while you dream?”
“Who’s there?” the butterfly murmured, for now he could barely see.
“Up here,” the voice answered, and, sure enough, over his head twinkled a very bright star, the newest of that eve. “You feel hated and cold, but I have watched you always. You are what I long to be. Might not I watch over her, too?”
“Star…” whispered the butterfly. “Stars shine by night… butterflies by day…”
“No,” the star said, with an air of urgency. “We are always watching, but you can only see us by night. I will take good care of her. I promise.”
“Spider…” murmured the butterfly now, and the star saw yet his terror.
“I promise,” he repeated. “Go be with your flower now. You are very tired.”
But the butterfly had already joined the others in the most profound sleep.
II.
The first dawn of a new winter breathed weak illumination, casting night’s indigo to the morning’s silver, and all the world was as silent as it had been in the long years before the seven angel artisans had fallen to earth to weave their splendours. Perhaps, knowing this time her hour would be brief, the maid of ice and snows set to her work quickly, for, come noon, not a single creation lingered uncovered by a glassy layer of frost. Shortly thereafter in this glittering world did the cocoon at last give forth its final tremble — an aching shudder, somewhat half way between a sob and a sneeze — and then, in a burst of tiny starlight and gossamer threads unravelling, the last butterfly, and most delicate of all, happily shook herself free.
The Butterfly Vow by lilimist Page 6 of 16 writing
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