VisDare – Memory
She feels him watching her.
“This is my gift,” she says. She gently picks up the butterfly by its wings and holds it close to her lips. Immediately she feels its memories course through her like electricity. She feels the weight of its struggle as it tries to break free from its cocoon. She can taste the sweet summer air from the small cracks it has made. It lands on a leaf and its wings, crumpled, flaps once then twice then in multiple successions as its body floats upward higher and higher. The butterfly has only lived for about a week but it feels like a lifetime. It has been from flower to flower and has seen many things. It once saw a child fall from a tree which resulted from scraped elbows. The butterfly had been to a funeral of someone and it was the only attendee. It left after the first handful of dirt had been thrown into the hole. The butterfly once met another of its kind only to fly off again. All of these, she drank.
The dying butterfly flutters its wings. The man is surprised by this. She smiles at him. She places the butterfly in her palms and lifts it up into the sky. It flies off soundlessly.
“The price is only your memories, your stories I will take in return of healing,” she says to him. “Are you prepared to shoulder the cost?”
She watches him with her mismatched eyes. He looks down to his knees and to the stumps where his legs should have been. “I am,” he answers.
She draws her face closer to him and kisses him on the lips. The memories come to her in large bursts.