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  • Butterfly Collector

    January 25, 2010 — With 276 words & Read — Labelled as: Story
    “Does a butterfly flapping it’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas?”
    He had just began the tedious job of pinning his freshly collected specimen.
    “Could the flutter was to blame for that nose bleed I had the other day.”
    His sight had been getting worse over the past years and he was wearing two sets of glasses on top of one another.
    “Personally I work best with female butterflies, but as a collector I also can’t help it to collect the male samples as well.”
    To him this was more than just a hobby, all the butterflies he had mounted on his wall were his legacy.
    “Maybe it’s the reason these biscuits taste funny?”
    His tea was finally at the right temperature for drinking and he took a short break.
    “Did you know butterflies taste with their feet, I’m sure glad I don’t have to do that.”
    With each pin he sticks into the butterfly he releases a soft groan caused by his rheumatism.
    “There is an poisonous Indonesian butterfly named the Goliath Birdwing and there’s another type of butterfly that looks just like it but isn’t poisonous, it blends in with those that are so they get left alone by predators. I kinda feel like that most of the times.”
    He was done pinning the body into a elegant pose onto a wooden board.
    “Wait till my fellow collectors see you, they’ll be amazed, an 5′ 4” tall butterfly in mint condition!”

    A slight draught entered the room, making the small curtain covering the small attic window waved letting in rays of light that danced across the table.
    It was the last glimmer of hope the little girl dressed as a butterfly saw.
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