Butterfly

A mans yelp. The horrid sheen of a blade. Then gurgling. A thump, and then silence.

A few more ruffled sounds of struggle and then silence again.

A butterfly’s eyes shimmered in the darkness as it watched from the branch it was settled on. Her wings shivered in the cool air as she held her tiny lungs still, watching as a human man stepped out from the shadows of the trees.

His breath was heavy and sweat beaded on his forehead; a slender shimmery staff hung in his hand, the far end of it coated in a thick liquid that dripped into a puddle of the substance at his feet. The butterfly’s lungs filled with the sudden salty taste of the air.

The man looked up, startled, as a soft flutter tickled his ear; this blade barely twitched as the insect wafted down to the crimson gild on the tip. Instantly its legs were enveloped but it didn’t seem to struggle.

Lifting the harbinger to eye level the man tried to gently shake the creature free. Instead of taking flight the butterfly stared at him, her antennae teetering in curiosity. One final lurch of the blade and her wings begin to flap; the base of her wingtips steeped in the warmth of the liquid surrounding her.

The mans eyes widened in trepidation as she started to tussle; her wings flapping wildly, she only secured her fate. The blood advanced on her powdery wings like a tide to shore.

The oppressive nature of the claret consumed her energy and she toppled, falling in a whir of red and white to the ground. The samurai dropped his blade at his feet, quivering at the bereavement of an innocent soul.

Dust had clumped with the blood, making the butterfly a congealed cast. She quivered and floundered in the dirt, heart racing as her eyes stared- unable to blink- at the human.

A single tear cascaded down his dark profile and she laid still, tiny lungs heaving as she surrendered. Slowly, even that too subsided and the eyes went dull.

Scooping the sprite from the ground he cradled it in his palm, his free hand workign to make a small depression in the earth to lay her to rest in. Blanketing her in more dirt he stood and plucked his blade from the grass.

A sigh. Another shimmer of steel, wiped by cloth. Then a grunt and slicing of air. A stab, and then silence.

The samurai turns and leaves; clean blade marking the grave.