Wilted Butterfly

Mrs. Frizzly Brown had always been an oddity, even as a child. While other children chased after fireflies or skipped rope in the street, she found her joy in quieter, darker hobbies. She would wander the fields and gardens with a small tin box, carefully collecting the delicate remains of butterflies whose colors had long since faded. Their brittle wings, dusted with ghostly powder, fascinated her more than anything living ever could.

She grew up with that same fascination clinging to her like a shadow. The neighbors whispered that she saw beauty where others saw decay, and perhaps they were right. Her shelves at home were lined with jars and boxes, each one holding what she called her "treasures" - wings pressed flat, patterns preserved, a silent rainbow of death. To some, it was unsettling, but to Mrs. Frizzly Brown, it was simply her way of keeping the world's fleeting beauty from slipping away.

this book is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe