BY CITHARA PATRA
Copyright is held by the author.
JANE THREW a few more sticks into the small campfire she had put together. The flames grew as she held out her hands before them. There, she had a fire and not a moment too soon. With the winds picking up and cold air settling, she couldn’t find a warm place to spend the night. She forgot about going back to camp hours ago. She couldn’t walk anywhere in the darkness where all kinds of creatures came out. With no other shelter around, she took the spot near the oak tree and made that her resting place. The patchy grass right below would serve as a decent bed.
All because I had to follow that butterfly. She flexed her fingers. She couldn’t help herself. That butterfly was unique with its bright blue and black wings. How it managed to get in the woods, she wasn’t sure. She tried to follow it but lost sight once the sun set. She never got that photo of that butterfly, she couldn’t find a single building, and her cellphone didn’t work anymore. With less that 5% of battery life left, she gave up trying to find her way back now. Tomorrow. She would press her luck tomorrow.
As embers glowed between the sticks, Jane turned to the skies. Black and empty. Without a moon to add extra light, she grew more worried. The cold wasn’t going away. Wrapping her jacket around her body, she breathed in the smoke coming from the fire. Coughing, her head ached as she ran her hands on the grass. Safe. This would be a safe place.
Don’t worry about it. Someone wrapped their arms around her. She couldn’t scream or pull away as they drew closer. You aren’t lost.
“I’m not?” She forced her words out. “I can’t find my camp.”
There was no camp. You came out here alone.
Jane’s eyelids fluttered as she remembered that butterfly. Blue and black, much like the night sky, always slipping her grasp. Even when it landed on a flower, it never stayed there long enough. “That can’t be . . . I followed this trail. It’s the same trail I always followed.”
No, you went in another direction. You saw something you wanted. It led you here.
“I . . .” Jane ran her hands over the thick furry black arms holding her. Not human. She wasn’t held by another person. “I should go to bed. I must find my way home.”
No need to rush. You’re already asleep. You’re right where you belong.
Jane pulled her gaze from the furry arms and found something lying on the white grass. No, it wasn’t green anymore. Snow fell overnight. It fell when she stopped focusing on the fire. Her fire. Oh God, the cold snuffed it out. All that white ice and snow covered everything including the giant lump where her fire used to be. Her eyes zeroed in on the blanket covering the lump. Black and blue like the one she brought from home.
“That’s me.” She closed her eyes and leaned against something silky and big. Wings. The black arms were legs. The butterfly came for her. “Where do we go?”
Let me worry about that. The butterfly wrapped its wings around her. You don’t need to think about where you’re going anymore. You were lost. You are found.
Jane nodded as she drifted off to a final sleep. “That’s right. Then why are we waiting? Let’s go.”
As you wish. The butterfly started fluttering it wings, wrapped up Jane’s body in its grasp, and flew straight into the sky.
***
Cithara Patra currently lives in N.C., U.S. They’ve written for a few literary journals including Poetries in English, The Quasar Review, Instant Noodles, and 50 Word Stories. In their spare time, they travel and check out brand new restaurants.