Thursday December 10th, 2009

The exercise:

Today's prompt: the butterfly effect.

I... don't seem to have anything else to say at the moment. Huh.

Mine:

I was resting in the small field behind my house, flat on my back and staring up at puffy white clouds, the day it happened.

The sky was full of turtles and bunnies and airplanes, if you took the time to find them in the drifting patches of condensation. As a ten year old with no responsibilities, I was only too happy to spend my afternoon seeking them out. The grass was cool and the air was warm and I moved in and out of sleep for hours. I was roused from my final nap by the arrival of a butterfly on my nose.

I was startled and a little scared at first, but was soon filled with a sense of awe and wonder at its magnificent beauty. Holding my breath, I turned my head gently from side to side, trying to get a better look at its markings, before finally deciding that looking at it with both eyes at once was the best option. We contemplated each other for what felt like days before it finally flicked its wings in farewell and took flight on a soft breeze.

And I have been cross-eyed ever since.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

Aww, what a sweet little story! I like your butterfly, it seems friendly and malevolent all at the same time.

The butterfly effect

"What happened here?" Sylvestra's normally icy, mocking tones melted away for a moment before the heat of the shock she felt. The meeting room of the Council of Nastiness looked like a tornado had hit it. The furniture had been reduced to matchwood and scattered to all corners, much of Dr. Septopus's papers had been shredded to confetti and similarly strewn about. The ceiling mounted projector had crashed to the floor and appeared to sitting in a pool of blood, and the six samurai swords that normally hung on racks on the wall were all embedded to the hilt in the concrete walls.
"Did you upset the Green Lightbulb?" she said as Dr. Septopus turned his head towards her, his tentacles slapping weakly against the floor like so many fish out of water.
"Bleargh" he bleated, and a faint ammoniacal smell rose up from him.
"The Kalahari Kalamari?" Sylvestra guessed. "Betty Botox?"
"Hey," said the Green Lightbulb coming in behind her, glowing faintly as he did when he was happy. "Who let all the Lorentz butterflies out?"
Dr. Septopus groaned and his head slumped back to the floor and Sylvestra began to laugh, unable to stop herself, at the destruction wrought by five drab butterflies.

morganna said...

I don't think this is quite what you meant, but here goes.

Have you ever felt the world change in a moment? One instant you're going along, living your life, and the next it is totally different. At a bad party, you turn to the guy next to you, and say, "Let's get out of here." You talk for hours and become friends. The butterfly effect.

Or you wait for your dad to pick you up from school, and he's really late, and he finally comes, saying, "Get in the car, we're going to the hospital, your brother broke his arm." And the world drops away. The butterfly effect.

Marc said...

Greg - thanks :)

"... Dr. Septopus turned his head towards her, his tentacles slapping weakly against the floor like so many fish out of water."

Love that description :)

Morganna - most days even I don't know what I mean, so don't ever worry about that :)

I very much enjoyed what you chose to do with it. I particularly liked the first paragraph.