Sunday, January 1, 2012

Her Bedtime Story

Her Bedtime Storyby Brian Joseph Johns

"Butterfly. Butterfly. In the night. In the sky?" the voice echoed.

Butterfly. Butterfly
Her body.

It paid.

For everything.

Dance by dance it did.

"Butterfly. Butterfly. In the night. Not in your mind?" the voice found her nightmare again.

The dance was as real as it felt. Her body moving felt right as it should. 

Then they came to take her. Take her money.

Her body? She'd have given it for the right price. 

Her life? Maybe just her money.

It came too. None of them saw it.

I did. The little girls story come to life.

Whatever it was. It devoured them. Money. Substance. Everything.

"Butterfly. Butterfly. Dance your legs in front of my face!" she reeled into the night and her climax found her.

Not the way it was meant to be.

Nobody wrapped around her nibbling on her lobes.

She savored the thought, knew the value of it. But nobody stayed. Nobody.

She was an object. Like the ad. An attraction to draw the money from the pocket of men.

Her mother's voice still got through. Every once in a while.

Was it wrong to dance? No. Just as it wasn't wrong to love your body and to love the dance. 

To Be. To love the dance with one that you love. Love stays. They don't.

They leave her with their money. Not their heart.

Hearts don't pay for her fix. Money does.

The voice never came to her then. Only when she knew it was wrong. She gave. Herself to them.

"You f-ing beitch! I paid money for you!" his voice told her aloud.

Then she slept before her mother could wake her up.

Before it arrived. Then they were dead. All of them.

The same nightmare. She only wanted ballet and not their face in her...

She was twenty nine. Mature and beautiful and never gone.

"That's when I wake up." she lay on the couch.

Peculiar. His tongue. It moved like a snake's between his lips.

"When he shows up. Do you feel anything?" he asked her through his forked tongue.

"Yes. He shows up. Then they die. Can I get the TranQ prescription doc?" her eyes gave it all away though it peered from behind them.

"Not tonight. Do you want a sleeping pill?" he asked her concerned for her.

"No. I just want to sleep." she cried.

Then he shows up and everything is all right. He takes her money.
Then they're gone. All of them. Nobody left and no relief. Yet.

"That's just how it is when you risk what you risk is it not?" a forked tongue spoke.

"Who am I speaking to?" she asked honestly.

"I got what you need!" and then its all gone.

She wakes up and in the park but without her dance.

Who needs the dance when you have your fix?

"Don't you see? Just stay away from it!" a forked tongue again.

Then he shows up and and again I'm home with his medicine.

"Grandma? Is that you?" I ask her through the cloudy world of the night salesman.

"No!" she says but I know she's lying.

She's not my grandmother.

The night salesman leaves but never dies.

"I'm the mind between but your not free because he's not clean and its not been a place where you can hide. Anywhere?" it answers.

Scales everywhere. Diamonds on its skin though it's a snake for sure. Just like the Bible snake, but this Bible snake only speaks truth.

My mind? You mean I have a choice?

"I dance but only for the salesman. He gives me money and I give sex." she tells it.

Then they die. It isn't long but they're gone.

Then she shows up. Just like my mother. My grandmother.

That field and the bugs with... wings.

They built it. The Butterfly. Butterly. Not in the night but in the sky?

The salesman pays with money to me and I buy the street medicine.

Then it shows up and they die.

The Butterfly in the field but it roars.

It's name is Walter. Walter Wisp.

They don't hear it but I do before she shows up.

She can dance too but not like they do.

Their legs fold beneath them like those taking a professional fall.

But its a real fall. And it's not Walter.

It coils and strikes at them one at a time just like the storybook.

"You make her dance but not for free. She's just like how she felt to be but not you and not me and I will take you from her dream because she's real!" Walter says to us but the pills get in the way.

Then we wake up in handcuffs and Walter is gone.

We're free no drugs or pills and the salesman doesn't come around.

He's dead as a board and pale as Walter Wisp that beguiling devil.

But Walter has never been here. Heylyn helps her to her feet and brings her there.

All those devils are dead. I cannot believe that people die. But they do. Real as for sure. Just ask Walter. Walter Wisp.


"Thanks. I don't know how to thank you. Just. Thanks." she cries hard.

Heylyn looks at her feeling Weltherwithsp from within.

"It's alright. I know. My mother told me the story too." Heylyn explains.

"Where are they?" she asks.

"Gone. Away. Locked up." Heylyn replies in her dream.

"Will they be back?" she asks in the darkness of the mind's twilight.

"We don't know. That part is up to you." Heylyn replies.

"Who is we?" she responds struggling against the drug's grip.

"You know. Walter. Walter Wisp. And Me." the Butterfly replies.

The Butterfly heard it all from her vantage point overlooking the crime scene.

The Police make their case and put together the pieces and she flies quietly into the night.

"Butterfly. Butterfly. In the night. In the sky. Spread your wings. To see you fly. Butterfly. Butterfly..." she says aloud as they lift her into the ambulance.

Copyright © 2014 Brian Joseph Johns