Case was lead into the forest by her lover, escaping the city’s smog at 19. Together they built a mansion in the caves. Only dreamers could experience the views that emerged from the center of their cliffs. They slept in peace, the wild smells filling both their souls. The stars light dyed Case’s hair the deepest blue.
The night her life was drawn out by butterflies, she opened her eyes to see herself walking among the white of the clouds. Her body warm that night, was stiff the next morning. As the sun rose her veins stood purple against her ivory skin. The man whom she spent her nights with was charged for the crime. The girl’s uncle was taken to an institution to be questioned. Professionals studied the body. No one understood. They determined it was poison. She died and no one knew why.
Her Uncle her last relation was driven by sorrow to travel the chilled mountain paths of the world. Climbing nonexistent paths, looking for answers. He found none. With the hope he once had banished, the anguished figure happened upon the cream blue shell of an ancient camper. Inside was found the butterfly man. He sat there bent with age, the deep lines forming a map that told of many worries. He had wisps of snowy curls framing the planes of his face. He spoke of death that traveled on the wings of the lovely. With him the Uncle stayed for an unmeasurable amount of time. Soon his knowledge of the soul thief accumulated.
Then, with the determination of an obsessed man, Case’s uncle set out with nothing more than fleeting thoughts. He moved for an eternity through the jungles of the damned before parting a veil of vegetation. Behind it, small, and white was a butterfly the size of a single coin. It fluttered lazily toward him, leading the beauties of death. The air filled with the white soul eaters. The Uncle overcome with the despair of a wasted life, knelt down and wept. Soon he was covered in a layer of white, walking through the white of the clouds, screaming his last breath away as the butterflies consumed him.
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