"Butterfly Horror" by Jess Ricci
I come down stairs to a beautifully made kitchen, with pots hanging on the wall and the sun
shining through the window. I start my mornings early, before other souls wake. I turn on the
water in the sink and suddenly everything is black around me. The countertops and floor have
turned black, the decor around me a dark gray. Everything has lost its color. The sun no longer
shines through my window. The air gets heavy as I look through the glass panes at the sky. A
red orb flutters out in the distance. As it gets closer, I realize it is not an orb at all, but a butterfly.
As soon as its wings are in focus, the day returns, sunlight beaming down again almost blinding
me. The floor and countertops are polished wood. The walls shone of green and pink while the
flowers on the table no longer look as though they were caught in a fire.
I turn around, hand twirling my hair because I am nervous. I slowly twist my curls wondering
what just happened. I watch as a butterfly flutters through my window pane, as if the glass was
taken out. As soon as it lands on the sink faucet, the room blackens, but this time with a sound
of wings, massive wings that sound as though they could blow the house away. I see the red
butterfly glowing and through the window behind it, the ground starts to glow red. I realize
hundreds of butterflies are descending onto the ground. They glow, their small wings lit with fire,
counting the seconds until they burn me. I back against the wall but I know that will not stop
them. The fire has broken the glass in the window. I sit there, sprinkled with shards of hot glass.
My skin burns as the butterflies flood into the room, setting my countertops on fire with their
flames. Suddenly, I wish for the black, something cold enough to stamp out their blazing attack.
Fire starts consuming my kitchen and I cannot scream because the smoke is too thick. The
flames creep closer and closer to my bare feet as I try as hard as I can to merge myself with the
wall. I hear the beating of their wings getting louder until suddenly I jump.
I look up at the ceiling beams above me, light coming through the curtains of the early morning.
I feel the tears on my face as I realize it was only a dream. I cannot go back to sleep, so I make
my way downstairs for coffee. I grab the coffee beans and the sugar. I go to sit down at the
table and drink my coffee when I stop in my tracks as I stare ahead. A perfect butterfly is
branded on my wall. The day flickers, black then regular. The mark is gone.
I come down stairs to a beautifully made kitchen, with pots hanging on the wall and the sun
shining through the window. I start my mornings early, before other souls wake. I turn on the
water in the sink and suddenly everything is black around me. The countertops and floor have
turned black, the decor around me a dark gray. Everything has lost its color. The sun no longer
shines through my window. The air gets heavy as I look through the glass panes at the sky. A
red orb flutters out in the distance. As it gets closer, I realize it is not an orb at all, but a butterfly.
As soon as its wings are in focus, the day returns, sunlight beaming down again almost blinding
me. The floor and countertops are polished wood. The walls shone of green and pink while the
flowers on the table no longer look as though they were caught in a fire.
I turn around, hand twirling my hair because I am nervous. I slowly twist my curls wondering
what just happened. I watch as a butterfly flutters through my window pane, as if the glass was
taken out. As soon as it lands on the sink faucet, the room blackens, but this time with a sound
of wings, massive wings that sound as though they could blow the house away. I see the red
butterfly glowing and through the window behind it, the ground starts to glow red. I realize
hundreds of butterflies are descending onto the ground. They glow, their small wings lit with fire,
counting the seconds until they burn me. I back against the wall but I know that will not stop
them. The fire has broken the glass in the window. I sit there, sprinkled with shards of hot glass.
My skin burns as the butterflies flood into the room, setting my countertops on fire with their
flames. Suddenly, I wish for the black, something cold enough to stamp out their blazing attack.
Fire starts consuming my kitchen and I cannot scream because the smoke is too thick. The
flames creep closer and closer to my bare feet as I try as hard as I can to merge myself with the
wall. I hear the beating of their wings getting louder until suddenly I jump.
I look up at the ceiling beams above me, light coming through the curtains of the early morning.
I feel the tears on my face as I realize it was only a dream. I cannot go back to sleep, so I make
my way downstairs for coffee. I grab the coffee beans and the sugar. I go to sit down at the
table and drink my coffee when I stop in my tracks as I stare ahead. A perfect butterfly is
branded on my wall. The day flickers, black then regular. The mark is gone.
