Butterfly Rush

butterflies perched on flowers facing eachother

Holding her head up, she twirled her frazzled blonde hair and looked out the window with lazy hazel eyes. Cynthia Robinson was bored of playing with the mountain of dolls piled around the room. Outside the yard was empty except for a stone path that led through a field of grass and ended right at the edge of the forest. Fluttering around the path, she noticed a glimmer of color, flashes of red, green, and orange dancing in the yard.

Her parent’s words echoed in the back of her mind, NO you can’t have him. She imagined their smug faces, with their heads turned up and sipping that ugly drink they like, they loved telling her no.

Marching outside she stormed towards the phenomenon, up close she saw the bright red wings of a butterfly. As he rolled over, up and down on the wind, he wiggled his two antennae together, vibrations erupted out of the ends. “What do you want?” the butterfly asked, wings beating gently as he glided up and down in the air, hovering in front of the little girl’s smile.

Up close the wings were painted, splashes of orange and purple mixed together. The little girl watched in wonder for a few moments, before running back into the house.

The poor butterfly thought at this point, she must know it’s my birthday, is she bringing me a present? His anxiety grew as he heard a banging and racket from inside. Shit he thought to himself, as the girl sprung through the door, holding a jar and running at full speed towards the butterfly. At this point he wasn’t sure, so he waited their patiently.

“What a nice decoration is that f—“he asked as smack, he hits the bottom of the glass jar. In an instant Cynthia imprisoned him by screwing the silver lid shut. An air of confidence and satisfaction carried her back to her room, the oxygen in the jar, beginning to drain away, the unconscious butterfly flopping around at the bottom.

Okay just relax, he says to himself when he wakes up, just relax and don’t use up too much oxygen. The walls of the jar were distorted colors, changing as Cynthia skipped from room to room till she had found it. Holding up the floss in her hand she examined it in the light then rushed to her bedroom. Suffocating and on the cusp of death, she opened the jar. “Excuse me” the butterfly tries communicating, “you know that this is kidnapping right.”

Cynthia stared at him, the piece of floss hidden behind her back. The butterfly and Cynthia faced off against each other. “I’m warning you, don’t make me use my special ability.”

He tried looking away but her wide hazel eyes were mesmerizing. In a flash, she had pinched his wings. His cry went unheard as she tied the floss around his abdomen, and then delicately set his limp body on the bed post. She is very pleased with herself as she looks down at the injured insect.  

The butterfly laid on the bed post panting and stretching out his wings. One wing remained bent slightly out of place. “Help,” the butterfly cried out in the empty room, “Help,” he cried out again, looking over at the girl, but she was acting like she didn’t care, digging around the back of her closet. Feeling around in the dark, she distinguishes the grainy covers of her Coloring Book collection. Behind those she presses her fingers against the smooth glass of her old terrarium. As she pulls it out junk goes spilling out everywhere.

Collecting some grass, dirt, and rocks from the backyard, she arranged it in the yard. It isn’t very long before she is satisfied with her homemade cage.

“This will be your new home,” she showed the young butterfly as he was crying for, “help.”

Setting the habitat on the counter, she was nearly ready to put the butterfly inside, when she thought about something else.

Grabbing the end of the butterfly’s floss leash she tugged. The unsuspecting butterfly fell on the bed as it struggled back into the air. He floated sporadically rising and falling and following along as she walked out into the living room.

Meanwhile outside in the forest, the Monarch butterfly, also his mother is sitting at the edge of the trees looking on at the house.

As Cynthia walks into the living room, her parents notice the way she is holding an invisible string in the air. They ask her, “What’s that?”

“It’s um..” she pauses before answering, “Greg.”

“Oh, is this one of your new friends?” upon closer inspection they noticed the butterfly appeared on it’s last legs. Her parents laughed and laughed, “you poor thing, you haven’t taken very great care of it. How could you ever expect us to trust you with a real animal?”

Cynthia, stormed out of the room, and out into the neighborhood, “all you need is a little walk, she told herself and some fresh air.”

Behind her house a war council had started. Lurking deep in the forest, a large cluster of butterflies had gathered and perched in the branches of a circle of trees. The monarch with deep blue and pink wings was pleading with them, wiggling her antennae together furiously.

“He is my only son, and heir to this family. He is not only that, but I love him with all of my heart. I won’t be able to go on if we aren’t able to save him.” She explains, “the humans think they can do whatever they want, so they cut down our homes and take us in as their pets. Can you even imagine the horror that girl is probably inflicting on him right now?”

The butterflies roared in agreement and it was dead silent. Then another member of the community came to the stage.

“We hear your grief and concern for Ronald Red Wing Beat. He is one of the best of us. He has always been an amazing support system for me. I will not allow this to continue.”

“I know the butterflies haven’t taken action against humans in thousands of years, but it’s time we start.”

The entire group of butterflies yelled out in agreement. “Let’s go,” the monarch cries as they move in a giant cloud of color across the backyard, shimmering yellow, reds, blues, and oranges, flying over the yard.

As they started towards the street Cynthia turned the corner, where she ran face first into the butterfly cloud.

Butterflies have terrible vision, so at first they weren’t sure it was her, but when they figured it out they screamed the butterfly battlecry.


Beautiful hazel and orange danced all around her, and she grew more and more fearful, swatting away at them.

“aaaaahhhhhhhh” she cried out.

As the clouds of butterflies swarmed her, she dropped the floss and Ronald Red Wing Beat was free. The monarch hovered around at the center of the butterfly storm and dived down to grab her son. Just in the nick of time, she was able to stop him from hitting the ground.

With her feelers, she latched onto the floss and untied it. The tight dent around his abdomen swelling, and his face turning blue, they laid down on the concrete.

“Easy Ronald Red Wing Beat, we are going to be safe now.” The swarms of butterflies closed in around them, the monarch looking into her young sons face.

“I won’t let her get away with this.” The monarch cried out as his broken wings began to convulse.

“I just wanted a friend,” the little girl cries out, snatching at the monarch.

In an instant, the kaleidoscope of butterflies became her shield.  The entire group, stopped in the air as a single vibration filled the air around them. Cynthia got a chill up and down her spine, their movements suddenly becoming coordinated. They moved as one in a circle around her.

She looked down at her hands covered in the dark blue insides of the butterflies she battled, “I’m sorry she said,” looking up, “I’m sorry,” but it was too late.

The butterflies had surrounded her releasing their knock out gas pheromone in a constant stream. Then one by one they fell to the ground. Sniffing the air as she fell asleep, she smelled blueberries.

The monarch was the only butterfly that flew off, leaving Cynthia and her butterfly army asleep on the sidewalk. The butterflies woke up before the girl to flutter away. They had won the day.

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