All of the caterpillars were excited about making their cocoons except Horatio. “Not everybody can become a butterfly,” he protested. “You guys go ahead.”

“Don’t be silly,” replied Maureen. Astrid agreed. “Is it that you don’t feel special, Horatio? We think you’re special.”

“Hey, if everybody got to turn into a butterfly, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it? Being a butterfly wouldn’t be something extraordinary. It’s okay, you two go on and get your chrysalises ready. I’ll stand guard.”

Maureen and Astrid were so impressed by Horatio’s gallantry that they cheered and made him a big salad of his favorite leaves and pollens so he’d have plenty to eat while he protected their cocoons. Then they began to spin silk, intricately weaving layer upon layer until their soft shells were complete. Horatio lounged idly by, munching his salad and watching clouds cross the sky.

It was a nice day. The salad was great. It was lonely without his friends. He wondered what it was like to be in the cocoon. Maybe it felt wonderful. Maybe Maureen and Astrid were growing stronger, to emerge more powerful as butterflies than they had been as caterpillars. Goodness! Maybe when they came out, they would eat him! Horatio had never met a butterfly. It was possible, he reasoned, that butterflies were raving beasts with gaping jaws and dreadful fangs. Terrified, Horatio climbed up onto the stalk that held Maureen’s chrysalis to tear into it and find out what was really going on. When he reached the top of the stalk, he lost his grip and fell to his death, landing in the salad.

A week later, the cocoons rustled, and out popped Maureen and Astrid.

They yawned and stretched, flexing and admiring their new appendages. “Astrid, you look beautiful!” Maureen marveled.

Astrid was quick to return the compliment. “Your wings are fabulous! Oh, they feel so nice, I can hardly wait to fly!” Smiling, Maureen and Astrid turned to Horatio.

Lying dead, face-down in the bowl of salad.

            Maureen and Astrid were sad for a moment, but after all, Horatio had always been a bit of a glutton. The poor dear had overeaten. At least he’d died happy. And he had clearly done a good job of protecting them during their metamorphosis. Silently, they bowed to their protector and flew away.

Copyright 2006 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.