The Blackbird & The Butterfly

Church bells and storytelling

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"Just as I am the abominable winter,
I shall get shunned and missed when I depart,
you are the immaculate spring.

Beautiful and warm while I am forever cold,
bringing new wonders into the world...

for winter gives birth to spring,
it dies so spring could welcome everyone,
arms inviting a warm embrace—
—while others loathe the cold.

But just as I have to fade away one day,
I know that you have to leave someday too...
I pray for your fate to not be as brief,
just like spring, my dear."

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Everyone has heard the famous stories of Life and Death. Their fantastical story describing the cycle of life, death and reincarnation had many variations, and so, many of those stories written by unknown hands, were passed down from generation to generation... all with the perception of Death as a sinner and Life as the saint.

But how much of this was true?
Here, I will share a depiction of Life and Death, where one is no longer labelled as 'good' nor 'evil'. A tale where they were instead just two individuals who wished for their own happiness together.

Their story can be summarised together in the simple story of Damian and Eve, known by few orphan children who read this tale as 'the blackbird and the butterfly'

A bell sounded, golden and luminous as a flurry of beautiful white doves soared across the sky, disappearing into the clouds. A few stray leaves fluttered at the resound of the bell, fraying along to the rhythm of the wind... this beautiful chime belonged to a tall standing church, marble and white, where nature had evidently made its course, intertwining in the cracks of the abandoned building— its bell was still shining ever golden, ever glorious. Although moss grew in some places it was still elegant, filled with the lost sound of children's laughter which flowed along the wind. Grass mingled with dandelions, as the seeds scattered, a child's wish must have been granted by now.

By the foot of where the church stood was a small creek, one or two fish swam through from time to time and occasionally a few animals would take this as its resting spot. Across from the creek was an entrance to a forest, its leaves were various shades of healthy green, the bark showing the age of the tree either being its youthful natural tones or the cracked grey bark of old. Fireflies took habitat in the place, giving it a mystical and fantastical feel... lighting the pathways with their dim lime light. Hidden in the crevices of the walls, on the beams inside the church lay a nest in which a bird called home. White lilies found themselves scattered around the grasslands of the church grounds, some mingled with the bushes or stray petals found scattered inside the church floors. Even though it was abandoned, there was no sign of cobwebs or unnecessary dust, it still seemed so pristine and untouched by time.

The holy building was such a peaceful and serene scene to behold, something that had come out straight from the heavens above.

As ethereal as it looked, this small area that seemed secluded to the rest of the land, was actually a portal, a better explanation for it would be that the children's laughter that is heard in whisps, being carried through the wind belongs to the children— the dead souls of those children who found peace. It is not just the children who found solace in the forgotten secluded church, but the adults and the elderly too. All the dead souls who had their time of living cut short, or those whose time had run out.