Butterflies Monologue

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Butterflies Amidst Cemeteries The black, rusted gate towers over me, prone to toppling over at the slightest breeze. It creaks as I force it open, rust coating my hands as the gate howls in pain. The smell of stale dirt and rotting carcasses invades my nose as I tentatively creep forward. CRUNCH!. Stranded branches and crumbling, dead leaves grind into the floor under my foot, echoing like gunshots in the dead of night. Winter always viscously murders thriving plants without remorse, but this year the season took it to an extreme. Gnarled hands of naked bark nag at my clothes and hair, desperately grasping for a brush of warmth and life. Never ending mounds of dirt stretch in every direction; an eerie labyrinth growing infinitely larger at …show more content…

My mind freezes as my lips part in astonishment. “Impossible,” I balk in disbelief, eyes wide in surprise. “Mariah Elizabeth Smith,” it reads, letters newly carved and stone freshly polished. The name of my mother. Overcoming my initial shock, I rushed towards her grave. My knees give out and sink into the soil, the mushy dirt pressing into my legs and coating my shoes. I reach my hands up to cover my mouth in surprise, but find my eyes overflowing with water. Tears trail down my cheeks and wetness coats my face as a sob rackets my body. I sniffle, only to inhale the recently shoveled soil and cry harder. Emotions I suppressed deep down inside of me, keeping them trapped in a buried, locked off chest, have managed to escape my control and unlock themselves. As I bluster and weep and make a fool of myself, I feel a light touch on my shoulder. I turn my head to the right, and through my teary eyes, I can barely make out a monarch butterfly. “No,” I gasped in realization. The butterfly is identical to my mother’s tattoo, down to the three spots on its left wing. Every time I looked up at my mother, that exact monarch butterfly would gaze at me from her

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