Monday, July 25, 2011

Broken Wings; Shattered Shells

So many dead butterflies line the side of the highway. When I'm running I see that. The longer I dwell on it, the sadder I get. I'm pretty sure most people wouldn't even take much notice of something as seemingly simple as a dead butterfly on the asphalt, but then, I've always been sort of different.
The cars have to be what kills them. Never in my life have I ever seen so many dead butterflies at one time than on the side of any highway. Some of them have chipped wings or are missing wings all together.
Today on the highway, I saw the shattered remnants of an armadillo's armour. For some reason the individual pieces of almost indistinguishable shell reminded me of puzzle pieces. As if put back together, a complete armadillo would appear.
Step, a piece of a tail. Step, a butterfly's wing. Step, some part of the armadillo.
That was all that was left of the poor armadillo. Just pieces of it's armour and shell.

I haven't written on one of my stories in forever. I've just been distracted by some of my old ideas that I've found, and a few new ones that won't stop springing up. I'll write more later though.


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