For my story, I used the word blanket to mean cover, obscure or block, in particular, like a cloud blocking the sun. The inspiration came from a recent post called Enveloping Tranquility by blogger friend Annika Perry, in which she mentioned ‘a cloud of butterflies’. If you haven’t done so already, please pop over to Annika’s blog and read her delightful post.
I loved the idea and wondered at the thought of a cloud of butterflies obscuring, or blanketing, the sun. That’s where my imagination took me, perhaps not as far as the imaginations of the children in my story though. I hope you enjoy it.
A Cloud of Butterflies
“I’m gunna dig all the way through the world and come out in China,” said Nathan.
“I’m going to the moon,” said Mandy.
“You can’t get to the moon this way.”
“Can too!”
“The moon’s in space, silly.”
“So?”
Nathan sighed. “Let’s just dig.”
“It’s really deep,” said Mandy in a little while. “We can stand in it now.”
“Yeah!” said Nathan. He continued digging. “I hope it doesn’t rain. Tell that cloud to go away.”
Mandy shook her fist. “Go away cloud!” Then she said, “It’s not a cloud. It’s butterflies!”
“Wow!” said Nathan. “A cloud of butterflies!”
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
A few years ago, 2015 to be exact, I was fascinated by a huge kaleidoscope (swarm) of blue tiger butterflies as they migrated northwards in autumn. I’ve always loved the word kaleidoscope as the collective noun for butterflies, but how appropriate cloud is too. The migrating butterflies may not have blocked the sun like a blanket, but they cast shadows on the sand as they flew over the beach. Magnificent!
If you’d like to read more about the blue tiger butterflies, follow this link and scroll down a couple of paragraphs, or follow this link. In this second article, the migrating butterflies are referred to as a cloud. So, there it was all along.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Insect Nation, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
I’ve stayed at the family party with Josie, the aunts and the stranger from previous stories for a bit more fun. I hope you enjoy it.
Mealtime chit-chat
“What have we got?” Finally, the stranger, now identified as Paul, asked a question.
“The usual for one of these shindigs,” said Josie. “Aunt Agnes’s lasagne, Clara’s meatballs, Priscilla’s chicken fricassee and Joe’s sliced meats.”
“And for dessert, there’s Marie’s apple pie and Josh’s lumpy custard. Looks like Great-Aunt Rose has added berries to her strawberry jelly,” said Josie, taking a scoop.
“Blaaah!” Josie spat the jelly. “That’s not a berry!”
“It’s just a fly.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Flies don’t hurt. Extra protein.”
“Then you have it,” said Josie, shoving the plate into him and storming off.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
I used two real events for inspiration.
The first occurred at a family party when one of the dishes served up was a lasagne, which I’m sure would have been delicious if I could have ignored the flies (just one or two) baked into the top layer of béchamel sauce.
The second was a crunchy cappuccino I had once, that forever ended my love affair with cappuccino. When I removed the crunchy bit from my mouth to investigate what it was, I discovered it was a fly. The establishment was very good. They apologised and offered to make me another one. I’m not sure if I accepted their offer, but I’ve never ordered another cappuccino.
Flies and the Australian summer go hand in hand. I’m never keen on their company, and abhor them as a food source.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Southwest Pumpkins, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that depicts the painting, “Southwest Pumpkins” by TOJ. Feel free to explore the nuances — do you focus on the art or seek a story? What vibes do you get? Who shows up to enter the image? What happens? Go where the prompt leads!
I thought of the painting as a scene from a doorway. I wondered what the doorway led to or from, and who was standing in it and why. My story relates to those ponderings. I hope you enjoy it.
The Next Leg
The distant mountains did a thumbs up as if measuring how far the moon had still to travel before they’d reach their destination. While this taverna was welcoming, not all were so obliging, and the desert could never be thought of as a friend. They thanked their host and gathered their belongings, including replenished canteens and knapsacks. Grasping their hands firmly, the host wished them a safe journey. He advised on signs to seek and others to avoid. They bade farewell, but then, before they left, they finger framed the scene, a memory to guide them on their way.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt It’s Festa Time, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
For my response, I’ve stayed with Josie and the aunts I introduced in two previous stories, A Dark Horse and Whether the Weather. I’m not sure where these characters have come from, but I’m having fun getting to know them. Be assured that they are not based on anyone, currently or previously living, I know.
Family Fun
The celebration was progressing in the usual Festa fashion. The aunts huddled down one end, criticising and badmouthing anyone out of earshot, and even some who weren’t. The men propped up the bar ensuring they didn’t miss their fair share of the free-flowing beer. The children played spotlight outside, relishing the lack of supervision. Any young people whose protests had failed wished they were somewhere, anywhere, else. Including Josie. The stranger, who’d become more intriguing with the aunts’ warnings, was totally self-absorbed. Seems the cool exterior was just that. Nothing of substance below. Now what was Josie to do?
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt The Weather Arrives, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
This is my response. I hope you enjoy it. I’ve drawn on the same group of characters as appeared in a previous story.
Whether the Weather
Thunderous footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing her arrival.
“Look what the storm blew in.” One aunt grimaced, nodding towards the figure in the doorway.
“I’d say she brought the storm with her. As usual,” said another, noticing the flashing eyes and dark clouds encircling her wild red hair.
“Don’t worry,” said a third. “It’ll just be a storm in her E-cup.”
“Don’t you mean teacup?” asked Josie.
“No,” said the third, patting her chest. “Elsie’s always too big for her E-cup.”
The aunts laughed, but as Elsie stormed towards them, their laughter evaporated as quickly as a sunshower.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Journey to Home can be read at the Carrot Ranch. Sadly, I missed that one. Perhaps I could have written about Josie’s journey home, if I’d thought of it.
The shelves were bursting with cans of almost everything imaginable: the purest air from southern oceans, sparkling water from ancient underground springs, and even sunshine from Australia. She wasn’t sure what she wanted until she found it. For years she’d joked she’d make a fortune if she could can a toddler’s energy. Now someone had. She loaded her basket and dashed home. If only she’d read the small print. She was soon cartwheeling across the lounge room, star jumping on the bed and preparing to fly like superwoman. If she did, or didn’t, fly, she’d be committed for sure.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Rubber Duck, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
Ever since I read the prompt, I’ve had Ernie from Sesame Street singing Rubber Ducky on endless repeat in my head. I’m so sorry, but sharing is something I do, so I just have to share it with you too.
I’ve continued the nonsense with a nonsense story, so that probably requires two apologies in this post. Oh well. Enjoy anyway!
Muddy Footprints
“Aargh! Who just walked all those muddy footprints through the house?” said Farmer Jo.
“Not me!” said the animals in unison, displaying their best innocent faces. “There’s no mud on my feet.” They lifted their feet to show.
“It definitely wasn’t me,” said Rubber Ducky, “for I have no feet. See.”
“Then I suppose it was Mr Invisible. Again,” sighed Farmer Jo.
“It was,” chimed the animals.
Farmer Jo scoffed.
“It was me,” said Mr. Invisible, gradually materialising before their eyes. “Sorry.”
“What?” said Farmer Jo. “So, you do exist. You’re not just in my imagination. That’s a relief.”
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.
Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Parents of Adult Children, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.
Norah Colvin 