With A Butterfly In Her Hair

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


 

With A Butterfly In Her Hair

 

Every night he had the same dream. So vivid was the image of her. The most beautiful and delicate of creatures. All in white, a shift of white silk over white stockings, the tiniest white shoes and her hair tied back with a white silk ribbon. Even against the white of what she wore, her complexion was so pale. Almost ghost like she looked, but with an ethereal beauty that he could not shake from his mind. There was only one tiny piece of colour about her, in her hair was a little butterfly. Made from tiny pieces of coloured glass, the delicate ornament was always there, in her beautiful soft hair.

 

 Every night, the same as the last,. Not knowing from where his mind had conjured the image, or what it meant. He would be walking along a street on a summer’s day and she would be walking towards him. Looking straight at him, her eyes would sparkle, but showed no discernable colour, simply being as one with the paleness of her beautiful young face. The shift of white silk she wore would show the slender form beneath and as she passed, he would notice the vibrant little butterfly in her hair and the dream would end. He would wake in the morning and it seemed as if the dream had lasted all night. She would stay in his thoughts during the day and he began to wish she was real, so captivating was her youthful beauty.

 

 He found himself, one bright summer’s morning, walking along the street that featured in his dream. Walking toward him was the girl from his dream. The shift of white silk, showing her slender form beneath, the same soft white stockings and tiny white shoes and her hair, just as in his dream, tied back with a white silk ribbon. She was exactly as he saw her each night, so pale and so captivating. He couldn’t take his gaze from her as she approached, looking straight at him. As she passed by, he saw in her beautiful soft hair, the vibrant little butterfly. He wasn’t in his dream now though, it didn’t have to simply end, he could go to her, talk to her, feel her. He turned, but she had gone, vanished as if still part of his dream. A deep sorrow took hold of his heart, for he so wanted her to be real. He looked down in despair and saw there on the pavement, caught by the bright rays of sun, the vibrant little butterfly she always wore in her beautiful soft hair.

 


Submitted: April 20, 2020

© Copyright 2021 H W Lustre. All rights reserved.

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