A Butterfly's Dream

The author would like to respectfully remind you that she owns this story. Should she see it anywhere else, she will sue quite happily. Should she use anything that is a name brand or is someone elses, she will acknowledge that and give credit where credit is due since she means no copyright infringement.

It sucks being dead; well technically dead really. No one can see you, and those who can, are always telling you to move on. What if I still need to be here? What if I have a purpose? What if I have a reason to ignore that so-called white light? Did they even think of that?

No! Not once in all this time! Why should they? In their pathetic thoughts, in their eyes, I’m dead and nothing more. I have nothing left to do on this earth. Short sighted fools, the lot of them.

I have something to do, something to say, something to show. But I need to get my precious baby boy to pay attention first. He’s blind to his own gifts, even though I know my sister knows and can feel those gifts. Why she hides behind a façade, I truly don’t understand, much less know.

Does she act like this to fool herself and others that she is normal? Or is it so she doesn’t have to acknowledge her past and her own selfish actions? Why does she hide the blood of princes that runs through us? Why does she try and run from it all – my destiny…her destiny…our destiny?

But, I digress. I just need to push him in the correct direction. I already have, if seeing him start to watch those videos of the pastor is any indication. Such amazing things have happened since I’ve become the way I. The internet, computers and so much more. I’m glad though that I’ve learned what I needed to learn to be able to push my child into the right direction.

Sighing softly, I drift off to find the one that was helping him – the one with Gypsy blood in him. It gives him the gifts that would come handy in the future. It was a good thing that the gypsy brat was there, even if he is destined for something that tears at my heart.

He’s asleep and muttering something softly. It’s rather endearing and I can’t help but use a bit of energy to put his blanket back over him before moving to his computer. Waking it up, I smile as I enter several keywords that none of his friends had thought of and let the computer do its thing. I had come by earlier, while he was cleaning up, but that search hadn’t turned anything up. I knew that he would understand what he needed to do.

I should rest for a little bit of time. Just for a small time.


The beeping was soft and even as the respirator wheezed, forcing air into lungs that could breathe on their own, but not without some difficulty. The sun was shining through the window, the prescribed amount of time for someone with soft, fair skin that could burn so easily. The sun glinted off the spun gold that was braided and laid to the side of the still body. An IV dripped the nutrients that the body needed through a long and soft tube.

Another body was there, but it wasn’t in a type of sleeping death. It was settled back into a chair, quietly reading to the figure on the bed. His light hair glinted in the light as his nail polish flashed in the light. He looked up as the figure on the bed turned over and a pair of dull blue eyes opened and stared at him through slits that were barely there.

“Hello, love. Do you want me to read Baroness of Blood?” he asks softly, putting aside the book in his hands and reaching for another book. On the cover was a beautiful woman with platinum blond hair, wearing a black dress and veil and holding a bouquet of red roses. “Let’s see here. We were here. Two nights later, Peto and his generals sat in places of honor…” he starts to read while settling back.

The patient on the bed didn’t look a day over 17, but was in truth, closer to her 30’s. She was in a type of coma that doctors thought were impossible. She woke, but never spoke. She was able to walk and eat and do everything a normal person could do, but the more complicated tasks were beyond her reach. To put it simply, her brain was working on a basic level, much like a newborn’s mind.

She was a medical marvel and no one knew when she would come out of the unusual coma. Until then, they would continue to take care of her. The hospital was private and the patients were well cared for. The only people ever really seen walking around were the occasional patient that could walk in their sleep-like states, the nurses and the doctors. Every one there knew who was who and what had to be done.

It was rare that you saw someone walking through the halls. All patients at this hospital were family members of the rich and elite, hidden away from the rest of the world, like a dark secret that wasn’t wanted and wasn’t needed. It was heart breaking for many of the employees, but there were a few patients that did get visitors.

The girl was one of them. She had two people come and visit her, neither of them family of any kind. One was a woman who looked to be near her 40’s. She had a small scar below her hair line on her forehead and walked with a cane, as she had done so ever since she was 18. She would come in two to three times a week, depending on what she was doing, and spend most of the day with the patient. Reading, writing or just sitting in silence, the woman would smile sadly the entire time and reaffirm the bond that the nurses could feel.

The other visitor was the male that was sitting in her room reading to her. He came in every day after 12, and sat there until dinner. Sometimes he stayed for dinner, sometimes he didn’t. No one really knew his name and no one bothered to find out. He was one of the few people that the girl would respond to, her nurse being the other.

He was a rather odd male, in most of the nurses’ eyes. He painted his nails and wore his honey brown hair long. His eyes though, were something that made many of them wonder at how they got so radiant. With the right amount of light, it seemed that all he had was a black circle, instead of the icy blue that they originally were. No one was willing to go up to him and ask, though. Not after the last time he snapped at someone.

That hadn’t been good for the mental states of the nurses.

So, they let him come in without question. They got to know him as much as was possible and they continued to take care of the beautiful woman in the waking coma. It worked for all. They could only hope that the plea he made every time he left came true eventually – the plea that she wake up again and come back with him.

For the time being though, the machines beeped and the girl continued to drift in and out.