Butterfly

by Rosie Nelson

I woke up on Sunday morning and stretched my arms, only to find they could not be stretched at all. When I tried to move, I discovered that I had many legs and two large wings. I felt like I had thousands and thousands of legs, wiggling around everywhere. I tried to roll over onto my stomach, hoping that I might be able to fly off from that position. I wiggled and turned, and wiggled and turned, finally managing to turn myself over. I pushed my way out of the sheets that were wrapped around me and flew.

The first thing I noticed was how large the room seemed. My room, which I previously considered very small, now seemed to be a room fit for an elephant. The room seemed to grow overnight...and suddenly it dawned on me. If I have wings and many legs, maybe I also became smaller. The thought of having metamorphosized into a butterfly was hard; I didn’t want to accept the fact I wasn’t human anymore. I wanted to have the same friends and lead the perfect life. All of those dreams seemed to rot away as I discovered more and more about my new body.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on my bedroom door. It was my mother, wondering why I wasn’t ready for school. She shouted, “Honey, come out of there! It’s time for school.” I didn’t budge. “Cheryl?” my mother called again. I fluttered back under the covers.

“Cheryl, open the door,” my father said through the door. “Cynthia, could you go get the screwdriver? I’m going to have to take off the lock.” My mother ran like a cheetah to get the screwdriver.

In my panic, I noticed my window was open a small crack. I leapt up and began to fly. I flew gracefully through the air, up and up, through the window. As I was flying out, my father burst into the bedroom. He was stunned to find me missing from my bed.

“Cheryl? Cheryl? Where are you?” he called out blindly. I tried to call back, but for some reason I could not. My round mouth couldn’t seem to form the syllables. I could not make more noise than a gentle hum. All of a sudden...

SWAT! I darted away and heard my mother say, “Stupid butterfly. Shoo!” I was hurt emotionally. Even though I knew my mother didn’t recognize me as a butterfly, I was angry and depressed because she called me stupid and told me to go away. I decided to take her advice.

I flew off of the windowsill into the wide, wide world. I flew down, knelt on flower petals, and took some of the nectar to eat. I fluttered from flower to flower to flower, stuffing my face with nectar until I was full. Mmmmmm, I thought to myself, what a feast. The day was still young, however, so after my meal, I began my journey.

Flying is a beautiful feeling, almost like floating. I could feel the wind flowing beneath my wings, the breeze carrying my round body through the air. Life seemed so beautiful from above. The mockingbirds were singing, the squirrels were chatting with one another, and the ducks were quacking. I flew over the city, over farms, through hills, until I needed to rest. I stopped on a rosebush in front of a white house with a blue door.

The door opened, and out flew a little boy with a small net. He had come out to try and catch butterflies, and I seemed to be his target. I darted here and there, but an unexperienced butterfly is no match for an experienced butterfly catcher, and I was caught. He placed me inside a small jar with holes in the lid and honey at the bottom of it. I licked the honey as the boy took me inside.

“Grampa! Grampa! Look what I caught!” the little boy shouted. “Look here! In the jar!”

“What’s this you have, Rob?” his grandfather asked, examining my cage. “Why, you’ve captured a butterfly!”

“I know, Grampa. But what am I supposed to do now?”

“Why, Rob, you must set her free. A butterfly will never be happy confined in a cage. Let me ask you, would you be happy if we kept you here at home until you were 90 years old? No, Rob, you would feel terribly confined. You would be unhappy all 90 years.”

The grandfather finally won Rob over, and I was set free. Plus, I had a great meal eating the honey. I set off on my journey again. I flew through a great forest, over a beautiful lake, and finally towards a large desert. I fluttered around, looking for a place to stay, for it was getting late at night. I found a garden outside somebody’s house and stayed there for the night. I stayed there, night after night, and I grew to love the beautiful garden and all of its flowers and trees. I decided to stay in the garden for a while, and there I remain, a graceful butterfly, smelling the flowers and living out my life. I heard, through an open window, that I was reported missing and presumed dead. Only I knew I was here, alive, happier than I’d ever been before.

I wrote this for English in 9th grade. Cool or what.

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