Cameron Kirk is a writer. Some of his ideas are good. Some are not. He writes to amuse himself, because nobody else really cares.
Harry Johansson came home 3 days late and dead.
He kissed his wife and stuck his proboscis down her throat. She gagged, and opened her eyes wide in horror. She pushed him away and screamed. Sticky saliva coated her chin and mouth.
Harry’s fragile wings beat morbidly.
“Crystal,” he whispered. His voice was dry, and it cracked. “Crystal, the cancer is gone.”
Crystal Johansson recognized the creature before her. The translucent and splotched wings under his arms and the twitching antennae drooping from his head made no sense, yet the right side of her brain knew this creature to be her dead husband. The left side knew only terror.
“You’re dead!” she screamed.
“No,” he said. “I cocooned. I transitioned. I found a way to beat cancer, beat death. On Antari 5. On Antari 5….”
She wasn’t listening. She was running. She ran downstairs into the living room.
Harry didn’t take the stairs. He floated to the floor below.
“No, stay away from me!”
“Crystal, listen to me. On Antari 5, the Butterfly People showed me the way. We can fly, Crystal, we can fly.”
“I have your suicide note! You’re dead!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know if it would work, but it did. I transitioned in the woods outside. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. Join me, Crystal. Join us.”
“What?! What are you talking about?”
“Become one of us. It’s beautiful. We are beautiful. Look.”
Outside the window, flitting, winged figures pressed against the glass more moth than butterfly.
Crystal screamed again, and again.
[image: Butterfly Eyes | John Clapp]