Butterfly Mask

Author: Alison Pearce
Word Count: 359
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Butterfly Mask

Prompt – Choose a picture from the Twisted Tales Gallery and base a story around it. I chose to use ArtistaDonna’s pencil drawing titled Butterfly Woman

Word Count – 349

Once again, I have had to cut back significantly to meet the word count!! I hope nothing important is lost in translation :)

Butterfly Mask belongs to the following groups:

! Creative Writing & Poetry !, ABSTRACT DIGITAL ART AND WRITING, All Around the Styles, All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, Bits and Pieces , Boredom Competitions on the 24/7, Creative Spirits of Queensland , Creative, Talented, and Unknown, Crime Time, Friends of RedBubble, If it doesn't belong, Light In The Darkness, Live, Love, Dream: , Masterpieces: Literary Workshop, Midnight Ramblers, Riginals, Safe Haven, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, Twisted Tales, Who are YOU to Judge? and WMG

The room was cold. It tasted like blue on the tip of Fran’s tongue. Blue splayed out in delicate tendrils to cover her face. In another time, the blue would’ve made her shiver; now Fran welcomed it.
Colour had come into her life. Colours that she could smell, hear, touch and taste. Colours that encircled her like a silk veil. Fran didn’t know how she’d ever lived without the knowledge her new found senses had brought.
The scent of pink wafted over to her. Its gentle fragrance settled over her upturned face.
Musical notes of purple, green and yellow followed.
The sensations the colours evoked in Fran were exhilarating. Fran felt like she was floating; a sparkle of gold travelling a rainbow; a butterfly trapped in a human cocoon.
Soon the black would come calling again however.

Sarah watched her mother smear the contents of a make-up kit over her face, giggling and chattering away to herself.
Fran had shown no sign that she was even aware of Sarah’s presence. Not when Sarah had opened the windows; not when she’d spoken softly in Fran’s ear or raised the bouquet of roses for her mother to smell.
Sarah even played a recording of Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, Fran’s favourite opera. Not even the familiar strands of beautiful music had caused a reaction.
Dr Symonds entered the room, quickly took in Fran’s painted face and hands and strode to Sarah’s side, ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. We’ve done all we can. The damage the head injury your mother sustained has manifested itself in ways that simply have us baffled.’
‘Psychiatric ward then?’
‘Maybe they’ll have some success…’
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ they looked up as Sarah’s father breezed into the room and over to his wife, placing his hands firmly on Fran’s shoulders.
Dr Symonds noticed Fran’s sudden stillness. His mind filled with suspicions.

Fran felt the black ooze in. Its dense song settled heavily on her shoulders. Fran felt a sharp jab and her rainbow receded. The darkness would last longer this time, but vibrant colour awaited her on the other side.

Rhinovangogh

Well done. Cheers, RVG
Alison Pearce replied

Thanks Rhino :)
tkrosevear

You are a master my sister of storytelling and inspiration ;) xoxox ♥
Alison Pearce replied

Thanks Tammy :)
marianne troia

great piece alison
Alison Pearce replied

Thank you Marianne
Teacup

very chilling picece this. excellent. x
Alison Pearce replied

Thank you Teacup :)
Janis Zroback

Well done as always Alison….I want to know if the husband went to jail… :))
Alison Pearce replied

Thanks Janis…and I hope so. The pen has not yet decided :)
LadyOtilia

I wish I had plenty of time to read all your stories…
Alison Pearce replied

Thank you so much :) I am considering compiling another short story anthology, perhaps you’d be interested in that :)
Zolton

This is great! I love how you made it work without really explaining it. Well done!
Alison Pearce replied

Thank you for the great comment and for also really understanding what I was aiming for Zolton!! Sometimes, I feel the readers imagination can fill in the gaps adequately. Even as the writer, I have so many questions and theories running through my mind :)
Matthew Dalton

There’s much more going on here than the reader gets to see, and I like that. It’s like seeing something from the corner of your eye or as you turn your head. You turn back and look again but the thing you saw has already gone. Mysterious. I like it.
Alison Pearce replied

Thank you so much Matthew