He turned around and began down the pillar. This time he didn't curl up. He stretched out full length and looked straight into the eyes of each caterpillar. He marveled at the variety and beauty, amazed that he had never noticed it before. He whispered to each, "I've been up; there's nothing there". Most paid no attention; they were too intent on climbing. One said, "It's sour grapes. He's bitter. I bet he never made it to the top." But some were shocked and even stopped climbing to hear him better. One of these whispered in anguish, "Don't say it even if it's true. What else can we do?"
Stripe's answer shocked them all - including himself! "We can fly! We can become butterflies! There's nothing at the top and it doesn't matter!" As he heard his own message he realized how he had misread the instinct to get high. To get to the "top" he must fly, not climb.
Stripe looked at each caterpillar inebriated with joy that there could be a butterfly inside. But the reaction was worse than before. He saw fear in eyes. They didn't stop to listen or speak. This happy, glorious news was too much to take - too good to be true. And if it wasn't true? The hope that lit up the pillar dimmed. All seemed confused and unreal. The way down was so immensely long. The vision of the butterfly faded.
Doubt flooded Stripe. The pile took on horrible dimensions. He struggled on - barely - blindly. It seemed wrong to give up believing - yet believing seemed impossible. A crawler sneered, "How could you swallow such a story? Our life is earth and climbing. Look at us worms! We couldn't be butterflies inside. Make the best of it and enjoy caterpillar living!"
"Perhaps he's right," sighed Stripe. "I haven't any proof. Did I only make it up because I needed it so much?" And in pain he continued down searching for those eyes which would let him whisper, "I saw a butterfly - there can be more to life". One day - finally - he was down.
