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Writing > Users > Hannah > 2008

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Hannah on October 10, 2008

Pink Butterflies

She wants to know what it would be like
to know rainbows and flowers.
She tries to think about the things that make her happy,
but all that comes crowding into her mind
are flickers of light through closed windows,
and shadows moving across floors of silk.
She prefers to work alone,
wanting solitude over love and friendship.
She wishes she could wear innocent pink
but when she puts the color on
her dirty hands and body stain it to black.
She tries to pretend that everything is ok.
She tries to hide her pain and tears
behind a mask woven of flowers and unicorn hair,
but the facade slips off of her face,
revealing her to the world.
She sees distorted faces staring back in mirrors
from a world not to be known.
She tries to tell them of this,
the small angels that splash in puddles of rainwater,
their wings drenched in the heavenly pour.
The ones who hope to catch a glimpse of her,
but she is allusive and hides,
and refuses to leave her cage,
where she feels safe in the tight confines.
She tries to tell them
of the Fate-ruled beings stepping out of the darkness,
free and unafraid in their comfort,
but words scribbled on a dingy scrap of paper
turn into a piece of art that no one reads but one.
She wishes she could forget the heavily-accented voices,
thick with anger and revenge,
spitting out incoherent words for all the world to hear.
Black-and-white pictures on walls do a grotesque dance,
finding they can move after centuries of imprisonment;
she wishes she couldn't see them.
The glass was half-empty,
but she thought it odd
to be asking if it was half-full or half-empty,
and why not just drink it?
The spinning fan above her splays shadows on the walls,
as her eyes adjust to the darkness of perpetual night.
Scientists try to explain
why pink butterflies won't go near her,
but they fail each time.
Her diamond teardrops shatter against the ground
as another try fails.
The scientists scoop them up greedily
as unblinking yellow eyes stare out of bushes,
trying to warn them they're not wanted.
Darkness presses in,
music to the ears of the twisted minded.
She wants to blot out the music,
but it calls her to go and embrace its icy depths
with all her soul.
The pressure on her heart won't go away
as she takes a deep breath,
her nose frozen in the midnight air,
and she wishes she could know
what it feels like to touch a pink butterfly's wing.

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