The Butterfly

The orangery was full of mist, artificially created to moisten the rainforest plants towering over her. Here, she was calm and able to think.

Rain pelted the glass and a wind howled outside her sanctuary. Strength would be needed today.

She went over to the clear box that housed her caterpillars. There was something about their fat form and the way they wriggled. She was almost tempted to tickle their tummies but resisted. These weren't her pets after all; they had a function.

She could see that some had cocooned themselves away. She was excited for tomorrow, if any would emerge. Satisfied, she settled down, in the space that she had created for herself, closing her eyes and silencing her mind. She needed full concentration if this was to work.

Her mind calmed and she worked on the process of envisioning scenes, vivid and bright and filled with joy. She tended to start small, with a compliment given unprompted, to the purchase of someone's coffee at the drive-through, to a volunteer at the soup kitchen, and on and on, until she climaxed in a crescendo of world leaders hugging at the end of a diplomacy session or racists being faced down by good people united against them.

Glass rattled as her thoughts coalesced.

As images grew in colour and intensity, she switched focus to her butterflies. Hers was a fanciful idea but she did it every day without fail, knowing that magic permeated the world and that we could all tap into its power if we only tried. She imagined her messages sitting on the backs of the wings of these beautiful insects and sailing out as optimistic riders, transmitting her message of hope and kindling a reaction of warmth and support.

Welled by the process, she got up and selected today's messenger. She spoke gentle words of encouragement as it sat on her palm, wings flexing.

She could not miss a day, despite the storm.

With force, she opened a window and released the butterfly.

She turned away, upset.

She had to believe that she had not sent it to its death; that hope would prevail, even in the face of a raging hurricane.

***

365 words

This is proper whimsy from me today and has been inspired by two things.

Firstly, conversation that I have had in comments' section where I have used the analogy of ideas of hope being like a butterfly in a hurricane, fighting to get through the storm. This metaphor is apt in a world where hope seems to be struggling in the onslaught of negativity and hate.

Secondly, The Great. I don't watch a lot of TV but The Great is brilliant. I am working on a piece about it so am not going to share overly much here but the character of Elizabeth has had an influence on this piece, fond as she is of butterflies. You'd need to watch it to get the reference but she is a key character in the show.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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