Oscar and Alphonse

She knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly wiggled in her hand, spelling out "goodbye". A single tear fell from the corner of her eye, leaving a wet trail on her pale cheek and down to her chin. They moved so that the little drop of water, the little drop of her, seeped into their fur and disappeared. She knew that they would always remember her, just as she would always remember them. She took a deep, shaky breath and smiled. She crouched down and placed her hands in the lush green grass. Slowly the caterpillars shimmied their way across the palm of her small hand and stopped, right at her fingertips, and made the shape of a heart with their small furry bodies. They then continued, and she could see where they were even in the dense foliage as they travelled through it, moving the delicate blades of grass.

She watched them until she could not see them anymore. Sighing, she turned to walk home. She passed her favourite creek without skipping a single stone. She passed the mulberry bush without picking a single one. She passed her favourite tree, without climbing it, or even looking at it. She used to do all of those things with Oscar and Alphonse. But now they were gone.

They had been special. They, unlike the other wildlife she had encountered, understood her. She felt as though they were her friends, like they were there with her wherever she went. She had known from the beginning that she wouldn't be able to keep them. No, they were special and had a purpose, and she didn't want to get in the way of that. They had, however, been her dearest friends when times were hard. When her mother fell ill and her father, too drunk to see anything, fell off a cliff, they were there for her. They sat with her as she cried, they stayed even when she couldn't give them love at that time. Now she could, though. And she was sad that she didn't.

Oscar had been black and brown, and exceptionally fuzzy. He was the most excitable, and always wanted to play. Alphonse, on the other hand, was calmer and more relaxed. He was orange, and, like Oscar, very soft. Though he was not as perky as Oscar, he never said no to her wild imagination and playful personality. Oh, how she missed them. Already being away from them hurt. After a few weeks, who would she be? 

That's when she knew. She had to go find them.

A couple days passed and not having her caterpillars was excruciating. She had though, through many hours of pondering, come up with an idea. She was to go to the meadow where she first met them many weeks ago. She knew they would go there to eat the leaves they said were the most delicious in the forest, the plum tree. Though it was far away from her small house, she had cared for this wild tree to maintain beautiful and healthy leaves for them, and juicy black plums for her. They had, she remembered, spent many hours under that tree, happily eating while staying away from her violently drunk father. And so, one sunny afternoon just after school was out, she ran to the tree. She picked a few of the ripest plums and sat down to wait.

Half an hour passed and she saw no sign of them. Long minutes turned into long hours, and she still saw no friendly caterpillars approach her.

It was beginning to get dark and she was losing all hope. Where had they gone? Did they even want to see her again? She left for home, confused, sad, and alone.

That night, the worst possible happened: a thunderstorm hit. The dark black clouds ran over the sky, blocking all the little remaining light from the sunset. Lighting flashed in the distance, and occasionally struck dangerously close. She sat at her window, looking at the heavy rain pouring, and worried. Would Oscar and Alphonse be okay? Would they find shelter? She hated to think that anything would happen to them. Over the course of the night the storm continued, and with the roar of the rain there was no hope for sleep. Instead of trying futilely to rest, she sat at her desk and wrote.

"It's been four days now, and Oscar and Alphonse still haven't returned. I worry for them, for they were my dearest friends and the only people, perhaps in the world, who shall ever understand what I feel. Mother is terribly ill, and I'm left to my own devices almost all of the time. She can never get out of bed, and Fathers' death made it worse. Though he was an angry drunk, and drunk he almost always was, she loved him with all of her heart and losing him broke the frail thing that was left of it. I fear for her life, for she may never recover. Then I shall be truly alone, and I will have to leave the cottage, and the meadow, and the plum tree. I would have to go live at an orphanage, full of strict nuns and cold gruel in the mornings. I pray to God, to anyone, to please help Mother and save me from the horrible life the orphanage would bring."

The storm must have stopped, because in the morning she woke up with her head rested against her desk and the candle she'd been using stood, the wax no longer a defined shape, melted and re-hardened, and the wick burned out completely. She stood up and put on a fresh shirt and skirt, and went to her mother's bedroom. The door stood ajar, and through the crack she could see her mother laying in bed, with a bloody rag balled up in her fist. Tears immediately sprung in her eyes when she saw her mother. It was too painful... she looked twice as bad as yesterday. She closed the door and wiped away her tears.

She headed downstairs to the kitchen, where she began to prepare breakfast. There was very little food left in the cupboards, due to the fact that her father was gone and her mother couldn't get out of bed, let alone get food from the market. She picked up food when she could, bringing fresh plums and fruit from the forest. But other that that, they had little more than some flour, oats, and sugar. So, she made two hot bowls of porridge with some cinnamon she found, and a sliced plum on top of each. She brought one up to her mother's room. There she placed it on her side bed and left. She would normally take more care of her mother, but today she couldn't. She had to go find Oscar and Alphonse to make sure that they were okay after last night's storm. After finishing the hot meal, she grabbed herself a sweater and headed out.

She climbed up the steep hill that lead to the meadow and the forest. She was not prepared for what she saw. Standing on top of the hill, she saw everything. Below her was nothing but black. Trees were charred and fallen, the meadow was no longer the beautiful green it had always been but instead a mass of cinders. Everything she loved, the places she'd played... it was all gone. There must've been a lightning bolt that struck a tree... and there burned everything. She could only imagine the havoc that the fire must've caused amongst the wildlife. The deer, the rabbits, the squirrels, the field mice... all of their homes were destroyed. She solemnly walked down the hill and watched as the grass beneath her feet turned black and brittle. Some turned into black dust that blew away in the breeze that was no longer blocked by the trees. She kept walking, in total disbelief, until she reached the place where her plum tree stood. It was mostly unharmed by the fire, and though there weren't many leaves left, there were enough to make a little bit of shade. She sat under the tree and cried. She felt horrible to have slept through the fire. How didn't she notice? Oscar and Alphonse were probably dead now, too. She cried, because she lost her friends, her forest, and her hope. Several minutes passed until she looked up. And there, at eye level, flew two gorgeous butterflies. One brown and black, and one orange. She smiled. Because she hadn't lost everything after all.