butterfly | ulysses (day 5)

U L Y S S E S.

Thorned walls collapse and rot, a sign that we’re allowed to move out and away from the Cornucopia once more. Sharp green vines wither into brown and grey. I cross past the barrier, slipping into the forest for a moment to breathe and recover. Then I’ve got to find Torian and Jayson so we can get a move on again.

Blood. It’s something so natural to the human body, but today it feels like poison. Of all the cuts and swipes against me, the one that Luna placed down my neck hurts the most. The fresh water from the cenote helps with the bandages. Cleaning out wounds, something I never thought that I’d have to do in my life. When I was a kid, falling off the bike and sliding down trees, the scrapes and brush burns were cleaned by Mom. She kept a smile to keep my mind off of things, telling me about her day or about the grumpy old men she’d take care of. When all was said and done and I stopped crying, she and Dad would take me out for a donut: chocolate with glaze from the bakery.

There will be scars after today. Take a million lashes in life and no two will ever be the same. No cut or bruise heals the same. Today’s feel isolated. Lonely. Silent. Even all that time after Mom and Dad passed, I patched myself up with some background noise. A scolding grandparent, or siblings fighting over whose fault it was that I, the most adult kid in the room, twisted an ankle or cut my arm on wired fences. No matter what, there was some chaos going on to keep the moment familiar.

Today, there’s emptiness. A slow existence, where moving on feels like going nowhere. It’s a temporary feeling, I hope. Waiting outside the other thorny gates for the others. Jayson and Torian are going to walk out from the mist and we can go back to the way it was. Friends, a distraction from the pain.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Long stares toward the portal in the distance. Any minute now, they’re going to come. Any minute…

Fuck. I’m so scatterbrained right now. I’m getting sappy now because things are getting real now. The first pain, the first slash where I wonder how things can get better from here.

How do things get better from here?

Stretched out, back against a forest tree, I wait still. Every facade of edgy bravery and punk gone.

They’re coming, right? They’re okay, right? It’s going to be okay, right?

A violet butterfly rests at the tip of my shoe, batting its wide wings. It spectates alongside me. The silence isn’t so scary now knowing that there’s something real and delicate around.

Quiet still, but there’s bliss.