Butterfly Effect

Knowledge comes to life through death as she opens her hand to a lifeless butterfly. Its limp wings expand to her finger tips in a dusty sheen of midnight blue and black. She flips one wing like the page of a book and holds her breath as it flops lifeless into her palm. She brings her face closer to catch any slight movement-- any acknowledgment of her dangerously close intrusion of its space, but nothing can be perceived. Squatting, she gingerly places the precious body upon the grass, still watching it expectantly, and then she sees it. The dust of the wings is now a shimmer on her hand. Examining it, she realizes that she has, in some incomprehensible way, hurt the beautiful winged creature. She then proceeds to rub her hand violently in the grass until the shimmer is replaced by green and brown streaks. Guilt floods into her and she puts her ear close the tiny thing, letting her hair enclose it like a shroud. But there is no heartbeat to be heard. As soon as she falls back onto her bottom and begins to cry, her mother scoops her up into cushioned arms and cradles her gently. “It’s okay,” she coos. “It was an accident.”


© Mikal Minarich