The Graveyard Butterflies

Chapter Three

The gray grass is not dappled with snow;

Its two banks have not shut upon the river;

But it is long ago--

It seems forever--

Since I first saw thee glance,

With all the dazzling other ones,

In airy dalliance,

Participate in love,

Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,

Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

- Robert Frost, "My Butterfly"

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The ground was hard and the air was cold, but that didn't stop Amanda from running barefoot across the meadow. Dull greys and bright wings flashed past on either side of her, slow and sluggish in comparison. Occasionally a wayward butterfly would flutter through the air in front of her, as if intent on catching her attention, but they hastily got out of the way when it became apparent that she wasn't stopping.

She had lost her shoes a while ago - casting them aside with the accusation that they were slowing her down - and the packed dirt lying beneath the grass was starting to make her feet sore. Rather than stop to consider going back for them, Amanda kept running.

Branches snagged on her clothes as meadow gave way to forestry, and then suddenly she was running through the trees. It was darker here, with the large bunches of leaves blocking out what little light the Graveyard provided, and the temperature seemed to go down a few degrees. Breathing became harder as cold air rushed through her lungs, like ice prickling in her chest.

One, two. The trees passed in a blur of grey at the edges of her vision, lurking shadows that looked ready to lunge at her at any given second. She ran harder, silently counting the beats of her heart and noting how its pace escalated.

Three, four. Feeling the ground slope upwards under her feet, Amanda leaned forward to avoid slipping backwards. Her breath escaped in gasps, little white clouds that disappeared into the grey landscape as she ran faster. With each beat, she sped up.

Five, six. Something sharp stabbed into her side, and for a second she thought it was a branch until she recognized the feeling for what it was. Pain. Her sides were starting to ache and her lungs burned, but she only ran harder.

Seven, eight. A single beam of silvery light broke through a gap in the canopy, shimmering in the air before her. Little flecks of grey were visible, dancing through the air as the gentlest of wind pushed them. Moments later she was running through them, light catching on her skin as she scattered the little things.

Nine, ten. Just when she thought that the trees would stretch on forever, the forest parted and gave way to a small clearing. A pond sat in the center of the open space, its silvery water calm and silent. Shadows fell across the surface in an elegant display of light and darkness.

Amanda slowed to a stop a few feet from the water's edge and doubled over, coughing as she gasped for air. Her body was shaking from the amount of abuse that she had put it through, and her stomach gave a painful twist that led her to believe that she was going to throw up.

The short girl slid to her knees and leaned over, pressing her forehead to the ground and panting as she waited for the nauseating feeling to pass. When the contents of her stomach finally felt stable, she held still for a few minutes taking in deep breaths.