Butterflies

I wanted to take some time this morning to share a few things. First, a very heartfelt and sincere thank you to those who have read my work. I've had other jobs during my life, but none ever made me as happy and content as being an author does. I truly love being able to delight and entertain others. There is nothing more rewarding than bringing others joy.

One thing about writing (which isn't always apparent) is that often times, even in the most fantastic of stories, the author incorporates personal experiences, thoughts, and feelings into the story. The reader may not even be aware of it, but it's there. It could be a character, or a house that the author remembers or even grew up in.. pretty much anything. For me, it was a butterfly.

Why do we do this? I'm sure there are several reasons, but the main reason is to honor a memory, or perhaps a person. In my case, the butterfly scene in The Exiled was in honor of my son, Cami:

 

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“You’re confusing me again,” David said, a twinge starting in his temple. The sword disappeared back into her jacket and then Celeste walked over to the side of the mansion and knelt down. Along the wall, flowers of purple and yellow that had been planted were in full bloom. Resting on one of the purple flowers, lightly fanning its wings was a blue butterfly.

 

“Here, look at the butterfly. Was it born looking like this?”

 

“Of course not, it started out as a caterpillar,” David replied. Celeste nodded.

 

“And when it was ready, it wrapped itself in a cocoon, a shell that covered and protected it while the caterpillar was changing into a butterfly. When humans procreate, a piece of energy from the mother and father combine and form a separate energy. That energy wraps itself in a protective shell – your body. When you die, that energy is released. Like a caterpillar emerging as a butterfly from its cocoon.”

 

“So you’re saying we’re all like butterflies?”

 

“It’s a simple way to explain it, but yes. The point is that Frank was no longer ‘Frank’ at the apartment, merely the shell that had been left behind. My brother Raphael was the one who was responsible. The weapon that he used was created for the sole purpose of forcing the energy out of its protective shell,” Celeste explained. “Once it was released, the shell – Frank’s physical body – was left behind. Raphael was then able to fill that empty void inside with his own energy. It may have looked like Frank, but only on the outside.”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at butterflies the same way,” David commented. Celeste smiled.

 

 

 

*   *   *



Cami's favorite color was blue, and so the butterfly in that particular scene was blue. The meaning behind that scene actually came from a poem I had written shortly after Cami had passed away.

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Butterflies

 

I heard the other day a talk,

Of butterflies and wings.

Of hopes and dreams, and feelings,

And many other things.

 

For some reason I didn’t understand

Butterflies were in my head.

Curiously, I grabbed the thought

And this is where it led.

 

As I lay in the darkness,

Drifting off to sleep,

A voice spoke up inside my head

Warm, gentle, and deep.

 

“You all start out as angels,

But each one needs to learn.

And so you are brought to earth,

Until it is your turn.”

 

“Each one of you I gently wrap

Inside a human shell.

You live, and laugh, and love,

And when you’re ready, I can tell.”

 

“Sometimes it takes a while,

And sometimes it goes fast.

Sometimes others feel hurt and loss,

For others that have passed.”

 

“But understand, and take comfort,

For when that shell shatters,

Each one of you spreads Angel’s wings,

And that’s what really matters.”

 

“So when you see a butterfly,

Remember it is a sign.

It’s just my way of telling you,

That each one has their time.”

 

“Each one of you are angels,

And you don’t really die.

You simply come out of your shell,

And spread your wings, and fly.”

 

It was then that I awoke,

And thought of what I’d heard.

And suddenly it all made sense,

Every single word.

 

So though we feel loss,

And our grief is hard to bear,

Our angel has simply shed his shell,

So he can fly up there.

 

*   *   *

 

 

I love writing about the Tal'Avern fantasy world and the characters that live within it. But the Exiled trilogy has a special place in my heart where a blue butterfly sits, gently flapping its wings.