Revenge of the Butterfly

by Ginger wRong Chen

My name is Bella Butterfly. My late boyfriend’s name was Bobby Butterfly. We lived on a tropical island with white sand and palm trees.

Three years ago, a lady and a man came to the island. He called her “Sweetheart,” she called him “Bastard.” Bastard kept saying to Sweetheart, “Come on, sweetheart, give me another chance.” And Sweetheart never changed her reply, “Leave me alone.”

The third day they were on the island. A bright, breezy afternoon, me and Bobby were playing on a leaf, rolling and laughing. But all of a sudden, the leaf broke away from the branch. Surprisingly, it didn’t land on the floor. It flew steadily in the sky. We looked up. It was Bastard. He held the leaf in his hand. We were excited at the beginning. After all, It was our first experience of flying. Five seconds later, we saw Sweetheart. She was lying on the white sand, a Sangria in hand. As he said, “Come on, sweetheart, ” he brushed the leaf against her face, back and forth. Bobby was thrown to the edge. He held onto the back of the leaf. But his full and round body was dangling down. “Oh, my god!” Sweetheart screamed, “what’s the matter of you, get that disgusting worm off me! ” She jumped to her feet and stomped Bobby to death.

I was so sad that I made myself a silky house with no windows and door. I stayed inside days and nights, mourning for Bobby. My tears formed colorful wings on me.

I wanted a revenge.

Seven days passed. I knew I was ready. I opened the windows and let the sun shine in. With my new wings, I flew around the island. I found Sweetheart lying in a hammock. Her skin was much darker than I thought. But I recognized her bellybutton ring, and the Sangria in her hand. I hid deep inside a magnolia, waiting for my chance. Surprisingly, the same thing happened like the day Bobby died. The magnolia started flying. It was Bastard. As he said, “Come on. sweetheart!”, he brushed the flower against her nose.

“Perfect! ” I thought to myself. “Aim at her face.” I thrust my way out.

“Oh, my god! ” She gasped. “ A butterfly! How did you do this? It’s so beautiful! ” She kissed him.

Together, they caught me and brought me back. For three years, I’ve been nailed to the wall in their house.

The first year, when Sweetheart said, “This butterfly saved our love!” Bastard said, “She is a godsend!”

The second year, when Sweetheart said, “This butterfly saved our love!” Bastard said, “Urhur.”

This morning, when Sweetheart said, “This butterfly saved our love!” Bastard stared at me, anger in his eyes.

At that moment, I looked out the window. There it was, Bobby’s smiling face in the sky.

No Sugar

by Ginger wRong

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was clear blue, the sun quietly shone onto my bed, the breeze stroked my face, just like he would do to me had he been home. Half asleep half awake, I reached out to the other side of the bed, whispering his name, “A’Le…A’Le…”  No answer. The emptiness pulled me out of my dream. I opened my eyes and said to the imaginary him, “I miss you, so so much!”  Then I shut my eyes tight, so I could see him speaking softly to me, he said, “I know, babe, I miss you too,”  his eyes brimming with affection. “Just wait a few more hours, I am coming. I will see you soon.” I said, He smiled, his typical one-eye-winking naughty smile,  that kind of smile that had never failed to make me smile.

A big day for me, finally I was gonna see my dear A’Le again. No more sleepless long nights, no more tears soaked up by the pillows, no more imagining him lying by my side. It was the day I was going to leave Shanghai, the city where me and A Le fell in love and had spent so many significant moments of our lives together. It was time to say good-bye to this city. We were going to reunite again in a different place.

I was ready and a bit nervous. Before I leave, I decided I would like to have my last cup of coffee according to my and A’Leʼs morning routine. For our morning coffee, I was in charge of warming up the milk, he would be in charge of grinding the beans. Every morning, he would ask me, “Honey, how fine you want the beans?” I would answer, “As fine as you.”

Then I would ask him,”Honey, how hot you want the milk to be?” He would answer, “As hot as you.” Then we would laugh a little, and in five minutes, we were enjoying our first sips of the coffee that day. Happy.

Of course, that morning, it was only me, So I had to warm up the milk and grind the beans by myself. It took me longer, but the coffee was great, strong and rich, just the way we liked our coffee to be, I also poured him a cup, because I knew he was making one for me also at the other side of the world. I knew he was waiting, waiting for me to go.

I finished the last drop of my last cup of coffee in Shanghai. I rose, walked to the balcony and jumped.

Falling down from the twentieth floor, I saw A’Le waving hello to from the other side of the world. I smiled before meeting the pavement.