This short story is for the writing contest about yearning. This is a fairy tale about yearning for more; more conflict, more excitement, more fun,
more knowlegde.
THE PRINCE AND THE BUTTERFLY
The full moon rose over the ivy covered wall and made the garden flowers twinkle like the jewels in his mother’s crown. Seymour’s eyes longingly
searched the sky for shadows in the clouds, cast by the evil wing of some forgotten dragon.
After being sure the sky was all clear, Seymour heaved a disappointed sigh and asked, “Mother, why are there no more dragons?” “And, where
have all the wicked magicians gone?”
“I’m fierce and courageous above all others!” he bellowed. Then his brown eyes drooped a bit, in pouty sort of way. “How will anybody know
brave I am if there are no dragons to slay?”
The Queen Mother laughed, and stars lit up the room and the scent of roses fell all around. The pearls around her neck glistened and danced with the
moon outside the open window.
“Seymour,” she said, noticing how his face had turned red with anger and embarrassment, “You’re going to be a great king of a great, great
kingdom, because you are my son!”
She took his hand and looked deep into his face. “Now listen to me closely. There are no more dragons in this land because it has been enchanted
with peace. Your only duty to me and your kingdom, my prince, is to chase butterflies and ponder rainbows.”
“Bah!” He snorted. “How will my people be able to accept me as their king when I have no trophy of a dragon’s head over my mantle, not even
an evil sorcerer’s hood?” “By what authority do I take this kingdom?”
“By the authority of your birthright,” she answered proudly. “You’re part of a kingdom, built on tradition that has carefully and with great
method eliminated all the dragons and evil wizards from these parts. Now, there is nothing for you to worry about. Go to sleep and tomorrow you can
chase butterflies and ponder rainbows until you are full.”
The Queen Mother sighed deeply and the love of a goddess fountained in her eyes. She kissed him on the cheek. “Good night my prince,” and she
was gone.
Seymour grimaced and he quickly wiped the kiss she had planted right off his cheek. “If I’m to be king, “ he announced to nobody, “then I’m
certainly too important to be chasing butterflies around!” “Who can respect a king that does nothing more than that?” “What nonsense,” he
snorted. “I should be slaying dragons and overcoming evil magicians!”
He stared out at the world beyond his window and imagined fighting winged dragons while riding on the back of a magical white horse.
Then he fell asleep.
Happy sunlight danced on Seymour’s face in the newborn morning air. His eyes popped open and in a flash he hopped out of bed to his closet and put
on his favorite fighting outfit.
He ran to the open window and shouted to the sky, “Look out dragons, here I come! Evil Magicians tremble NOW at the sight of my fist!” And he
shook his fist at the smiling sun. Turning, he ran through the palace and past his mother, who was having breakfast.
“How’s my prince this morning?” she sang after him.
“I feel GOOOOOOOOOD…!”
He pounced upon the garden and a covey of pure white doves shattered the crystal blue dome of sky. Seymour was in the mood for a challenge!
“Horned serpents and wicked winged dragons, I summons you to a appear before me NOW!” He danced around the cherry tree, poking at the blossomed
boughs with his magic stick.
Now, a pretty little butterfly, who had been napping in the sunlight, just above Seymour, shook off the morning dew and quickly flitted over to
another tree and lit upon a perfect crimson apple.
“Here ye, you sorcerers from dark waters, appear unto me NOW!” Seymour demanded. He continued his wild dance, poking to and fro and cherry
blossoms fell all around. The little butterfly blinked and blinked again, and then, she broke into throes of uncontrollable giggling.
Waves of delicate laughter fell upon Seymour’s ears and he stopped his dance of frenzy in the pose of a frozen warrior. His eyes flashed with rage
as he caught a glimpse of the little butterfly giggly and glittering like a mischievous fairy.
“Silence evil witch!” he cried. “Leave me! Can’t you see that I am conducting very important business?”
“I am NOT a witch!” the little butterfly shouted indignantly, and she fluttered her wings and blew a puff of butterfly dust in his face.
Seymour stepped back, a little confused, and then he sneezed. The little butterfly giggled again and Seymour’s face grew very angry. He started
chasing her all over the garden, with his magic stick swishing this way and that until she finally landed on the garden wall.
Just as Seymour was about to give up and go back to his important business of summoning dragons, the butterfly did a very remarkable thing. She
started humming and quivering and soon a warm glow surrounded her like a bubble.
Poof! A magic flash and she suddenly turned into an exquisite dragonfly! She wore the armor of a goddess that glistened in the sun like radiant
jewels. And her wings beat powerfully as rainbows guarded her sides.
Seymour’s face grew flush with a desire that he didn’t know he had. But, he knew one thing…. He had to have that dragonfly!
The dragonfly darted and charged back and forth, teasing and leading Seymour all around the garden. Then the beautiful little thing seemed to dance
backwards into a corner of the garden wall and then just hung still in mid air.
Seymour pulled out his handkerchief from his neck and snapped it quickly around her.
“Aaaahaa! Got you!” He had her.
Seymour rushed through the palace and found a jar, into which he could put his treasure. He placed her on the table before his bed and sat
transfixed, looking at the lovely creature.
In the jar, the dragonfly hummed and glowed and wove a magical song out of the twilight ad the midnight. And as she sang, Seymour fell fast asleep.
And he dreamed that he and the dragonfly went flying happily through the garden and over the garden wall. Cool air pierced his body.
They flew past a peaceful pond with ducks and swans and lily pads with frogs, to a little glade with wild snapdragons, growing upward like spiraling
castles. The snapdragons were glad to see Seymour and the dragonfly, and they open their feathery pedals to welcome them. They began to sway and
tossed Seymour gently about. Soon he was floating among their beautiful velvety robes of color.
Softness and warmth surrounded him as he rode the wild snapdragon, sailing though purple star studded skies, past towering pink clouds and into a
boldly rising sun.
CONTINUED
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