Butterfly Digitalis
By Casey Douglass
as part of #fridayflash
He sat hunched over on
the worm eaten log, the warmth of the winter sun doing nothing to
heat the deceased tree trunk. He scuffed his feet through the crinkly
carpet of brown leaves, some emaciated to a skeletal degree.
The low sun forced its
lack lustre light through the sentinel-like trees, their scuffed and
pitted trunks casting zebra patterns across the ground, across one
tip of one of his shoes. He adjusted his foot a little, trying to
sense any heat in his toes.
He looked at the ground
with unblinking eyes, the chill breeze unnoticed where it buffeted
him, but pin pricks of his attention were aware of the leaves arcing
and bending as they scrabbled over each other in a queer race to
nowhere.
His mind turned inward,
searching for some spark or presence that he could call “him”.
All he found was a void, the echoes of his thoughts snuffed out by
its all encompassing presence. He spurred his mind onwards, the
strange duality unheeded as if in a dream, watching himself watching
himself and yet was in control of both parts.
The sun shifted
slightly and began to shine onto his left cheek, the light indeed
having some small measure of warmth, on naked skin at the least. A
further portion of his mind split off and danced around the fringe of
this spotlight, welcoming it and probing it for usefulness. This part
revelled as the furnace glow expanded and blew through mental
chambers and cloisters unused for many years, their darkest corners
sizzling and stirring in renewed industry.
A small beep jerked him
to motion, his eyes blinking rapidly as the various parts of him vied
for attention. The correct parts thus corralled, he reached into his
pocket and retrieved his smart-phone.
“Rubylips Wants To
Meet You!” a small banner with a heart icon flashing next to it
proclaimed. He snorted and cleared the notification from one of the
handful of dating apps installed on his phone. He shoved it back into
his pocket, the familiar tides of loneliness and unworthiness
percolating to the forefront of his consciousness. He didn’t buy it
any more. The only women who wanted to meet him were the ones who
just looked at his photo. They never read his profile. They would
never click to meet if they had.
The sunlight shone on
his lap, his hands acquiring a surreal looking halo. Holding them up,
he turned them around and around, marvelling at how something so
glowing could feel so cold. He lined them up side by side, pushing
the edges of each thumb together and splaying out his fingers in a
butterfly fashion. He pivoted his wrists to make the wings flap of
his butterfly, his butterfly digitalis, the light playing strangely
across his finger nails. He was pretty sure that the Latin meant
something else but was pleased with the aesthetic of the word.
He wondered what kind
of butterfly could be born from an abyss, a place of dead feeling and
unearthly air currents. It would have to be a hardy one indeed. He
reflected on the idea that in fact, it had actually been born, the
seed of his thought setting other mechanisms in motion to bring him
to that moment, his hands fluttering in the darkening woodland, his
mind lifted once more to brighter things, even if for only a short
moment.
Pain lanced across his
lower back breaking the spell. He struggled to stand, his joints and
nerves complaining of sitting too long in such inclement weather.
Stretching to work out the kinks, he slowly headed off, his feet
shuffling through the loam and leaves, his thoughts on a new track.
Maybe if an abyss could give birth to a butterfly, what does it
matter of what is inside, if it brings interesting and amazing things
into the world. Things that could inspire and build, or destroy and
deceive. It was less an abyss and more the ultimate creative well,
sometimes reflecting what is thrown in, other times birthing wholly
new creations of awe and might. A cold shiver traced along his spine.
His phone beeped. He
left it in his pocket. He walked slowly, his eyes drawn from one
trunk to the next, a casual pace, light to dark...light to dark, and
gradually lost himself amongst the trees.
--THE END--
