From: Marko Nardini Area: Metaphysical To: All 19 Apr 92 16:25:02 Subject: Butterflies UpdReq Hi, everyone...as you can see, I'm new to this echo... I wrote this short story a couple of days ago - tell me if you like it - any response much appreciated! Marko Nardini Butterflies ------------ Tom lay silently in the total darkness. The coffin was acheap, basic one - just plain wood on the inside. The bottom felt hard against his back and the air inside smelt of new wood. He had expected an old, musty smell somehow - but this was a new coffin, made from new wood. Still unused. Despite the physical discomfort, he was enjoying the serene feeling of being in the coffin, a dark little space where he felt so far removed from the world around him. Lying there, he heard only the ticking ofthe clock in the room and the distant dreamy sounds of the subdued summer afternoon city traffic. He thought about all his friends who would come any minutenow. They would all be there - all his old friends that hadshared his youth, now coming from all over the world to paytheir last respects. He could see it now - them all gathered around in his little apartment, talking about him , reminiscing about the good times they had all had together, wishing that they had come to see him more often. And then, when Tom judged the moment to be just right, he would sweep the lid of the coffin open with his arm and climb out to see them all a gain. And they would all laugh and cry and hug him and remember the old days. He smiled. At last he would see them all again. He had first had the idea a few months earlier, attending the funeral of an old friend whom he had not seen for many years . It seemed so pointless - visiting him after his death. It would have been so much better to see him alive, to talk to him one last time. And Tom had wanted so much to see everyone again before the end, but despite all his invitations over the years, very few of his old friends had felt inclined to come and visit him. His death was the only thing that could bring them all together one last time, in his flat. But, he reasoned, what was the use of that if he was dead? So now Tom was lying there, waiting for them all to come, thinking about the past. Bob would be there - he had not seen him for over ten years but a long time ago, they had been great friends. He and Bob had spent most of their youth together. Tom remembered those years they had spent in South America, travelling around. Bob was really crazy back then - his favourite pastime was finding little villages in the jungleand getting the natives to worship him. They used to set off fireworks in the evening and walk into the village as the natives marvelled at the explosions in the sky, and were treated like gods descended from the heavens. All in all, the natives were quite fun to be with. There was this one village wherethey stayed, where the river nearby was full of crocodiles - orpe rhaps they were alligators. Anyway, these animals kept crawling into the village and eating people at night, so one early morning before breakfast, when the river was full of the fat brutes, he and Bob walked over and shot every single one. A few minut es later, some natives came over to see what the noise was, and when they saw the river red with blood and the massive bodies floating lifelessly, they dropped to the ground and started to wail. 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718 From: Marko Nardini Area: Metaphysical To: All 19 Apr 92 16:28:04 Subject: Butterflies.2 UpdReq Butterflies - Part II For a while, Tom and Bob were not really sure whether they were intensely grateful or, for some strangereason, sorry for the crocodiles, but when the natives startedto pursue them through the jungle with angry shouts, it became clear that these people were not showing gratitude, but were angry at them for killing the crocodiles. After a while, theygot tired of running, so Bob shot the natives and they walked onto the next village. Those were the days, thought Tom. Tom could not wait to see everyone again. He hoped thatJim would come too - he and Tom had robbed a couple of banksyears ago. The second time, Jim had run off with all the money,instead of giving Tom (who drove the getaway car) half, but he was duly punished - after a tip-off from Tom, the police caught Jim and locked him up for twenty years. Although he had been released many years ago, they had only seen each other once in all that time. Any minute now they would all be here, and they could all talk about old times, thought Tom. He hoped that Jane would be there - he had met her on that ship, sailing for Africa. She had been going over there to study butterflies, and one late afternoon as the sun was setting, just when they were with in sight of the shore, the ship hit a reef and started to sink. Itwas a small ship, with only two lifeboats, so he and Jane quickly took up one of them. He would never forget that - slowly rowing towards the African shore in the light of the setting sun, as the other passengers, who did not all fit in to the remaining lifeboat, were being eaten by sharks. At one point, they did pick up a missionary who had swum along side their lifeboat, pleading to be let on. It was a waste of time in the end, saving him from the sharks, because soon after reaching the shore, some local rebel guerilla force, who were passing through the area, shot him by mistake. Their leader, a devout new convert who had a very high estimation of missionaries, was so sorry that he shot half his regiment. He turned out to be quite useful, and guided Tom and Jane to the nearby town, where they got drunk on some sickly local beverage. Any minute now they would all be here, thought Tom, any minute now. He was running with Jane over a vast African plain, catching bright butterflies in a net. A glowing blue butterfly struggled in the net and then started to grow bigger and bigger, until the net ripped. It grew larger still, and he and Jane opened a door in its body and they went inside to find a little room full of stuffed lions and tigers that moved robotically. They saw that they were taking off as the blue butterfly flapped its giant wings and then Bob, who was controlling the stuffed animals, started to explain that the butterfly was being held upon strings attached to angels up in the sky. So they all leant out to look and started to fall down towards a giant green lake miles below. As they tumbled through the air, a flock of whitebirds weaved between them. One of the birds landed on Tom and started to peck large chunks of flesh out of his bare arm. Tom awoke with a start. He realised that he had fallen asleep - but for how long? He could hear nothing. Perhaps hehad only been asleep for a few minutes and they had still not arrived. He noticed that there was no sound of traffic, and his clock had stopped. Perhaps he had been asleep for hours. And then it dawned on him: perhaps the funeral had already been held. His friends had been there, talked and cried about him,and then his coffin had been taken to the cemetary and buried. Tom put his fingers to the lid of the coffin and decided to push it, praying that it would open and he would still be in his apartment. 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718 From: Marko Nardini Area: Metaphysical To: All 19 Apr 92 16:32:04 Subject: Butterflies.3 UpdReq Butterflies - Part III He tried not to think about what he would do if he found that he pushed in vain, with a heavy layer of earth piled on top of him. For a few minutes, he did not have the courage to try the lid and then finally, he summoned all his strength and gave it a frantic push. To his immense relief, it swung open and to the side with a crack and Tom found that he was still there, in his apartment. He shouted for joy but was soon silenced by what he saw. He realised that they had all been and gone. Half-empty glasses and plates were scattered around the room as well as a dozen wreaths. He had slept all the way through it. In a daze, Tom staggered around the room, picking up glasses and studying every fingerprint and lip-print with immense sadness. They hadall gone. He was careful to replace each plate and glass exactly where it had been. They were the last record of all his friends. As he wandered around the flat, he noticed a pair of black shoes by the door. Perhaps one of his visitors was still there,in one of the other rooms. He ran frantically from room to room, holding the shoes, but found no-one. Whoever it was could not have left without their shoes, he thought. Then he turned back towards the coffin and noticed astill kneeling figure, its shoulders bent over the table that the coffin rested on and its head hidden under the open lid.He saw a dark red pool on the tabl e that was slowly, regularly dripping onto the floor. Tom dropped the shoes and ran to thelid, lifting it to see an old man, his head lying sideways on the table covered in blood and his hands tightly clasped in prayer. His eyes were wide open and stared vacantly through Tom. He must have hit him as he opened the heavy lid, thought Tom, reaching over to feel for the man's pulse. There was none,and he had started to become cold. He looked again into the man's face and his staring eyes, trying now to remember who he was, but could not. The face was completely unfamiliar. He was wearing a long grey overcoat and dark trousers. His feet had no shoes, so Tom gently put on the pair that had been by the door. Tom stood still for a long time, looking at this dead stranger who had stayed, after all his friends had gone, to pray forhim. And as the corpse turned colder, the glow of the setting sun outside grew more golden and the pool of blood on his carpet became bigger. Tom decided to walk out onto the balcony. The room was now lit beautifully by the light from the setting sun, reflected deep in the pupils of the dead man's eyes. There was a beautiful view of the city below from the balcony, orange streetlights just switching on and distant mountains on the horizon. Beyond the outskirts of the city, he saw a train passing by, its windows lit yellow with tiny shilouettes in them. He walked back inside and carefully lifted the dead man and lowered him into the coffin. He was surprisingly light. Tom did not try to straighten him out, but turned him on his side where he lay, knees still bent, hands still clasped in prayer. Then he slowly closed the lid and walked out of the room to get his coat. Despite the long walk that had lasted well over an hour, Tom's feet did not feel tired, in fact he felt as if he was young again. He had walked through the crowded city centre and further away, past the little houses full of people that became smaller and stranger the further he w ent. He was now on the very outskirts of the city, among the huts that were so far removed from the sky scrapers in the centre. Soon he came to the railway line. It was raised by a metre or so above the empty plain that it crossed, just below the foothills of the mountains. 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718 From: Marko Nardini Area: Metaphysical To: All 19 Apr 92 16:34:06 Subject: Butterflies.4 UpdReq Butterflies - IV He scrambled up the slope and ontothe tracks and started to walk. Tom was going on a strange journey, as he jumped, skipped and danced along the railway line. He was running now, pursued by lions and tigers but he knew that they could not hurt him. "Bang!" he shouted, pointing his fingers like a gun - they were dead. He was swimming through the warm waters of a tropical seaand then he was flying in a hot air balloon, coming down to land. Then he was chasing tigers, shooting crocodiles and missionaries, running away from butterflies, chasing natives and hot air baloons, shooting sharks and flying in a police car, leaping through the jungle chasing a giant butterfly with Jane. As he moved on, the tracks started to throb gently and Tom heard the train that was coming towards him. He sped up now, running as fast as he could swinging a huge butterfly net over his head, with Jane running beside him. The train turned a bend and finally came into view. The butterfly had beautiful yellow glowing eyes but no wings - but what did that matter? He had to get the timing right, running straight at the giant butterfly that was speeding towards him, his net held above his head, ready to catch it. The eyes came closer and closer, until just at the right moment, Tom swung his net. Jane was lying back in the soft train seat, thinking about Tom. She felt so sorry that they had lost contact in the past years. She felt so stupid. After all, it seemed useless visiting him after his death, standing sadly around the coffin with all his other old friends. If only they had all gone to see him while he was still alive. Jane had been starting to drift into sleep, imagining that she was in Africa again, chasing butterflies with Tom, when the train was shaken by a little bump. She was startled for a second but soon closed her eyes again and the soft throb of the train lulled her into sleep again, dreaming of running along a vast empty African plain with Tom in pursuit of tiny fluttering butterflies. Marco 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718