(Flash Fiction) "The Butterfly"

The Butterfly

by Debbie Manber Kupfer

Simon concentrated on the words. They had to be just right, perfect. The ink flowed from his pen as it floated a few inches above the magenta vellum. There that’s it, and now to fold, to create. Silently he mouthed the spell and the butterfly began to take form. He had watched a Japanese master once form an intricate butterfly out of a single sheet of paper. He closed his eyes and dredged through his memories, remembering the lines. He smiled as he opened his eyes and the butterfly sat in front him, its wings quivering, awaiting his next instruction.

Jennifer sat by herself in the corner of the cafeteria. Tonight was prom and still no invitation. She was crazy to believe that Simon was interested in her - especially as her magic was so commonplace. He could have his pick of any witch here, why would he choose her? But still she caught herself looking over at his table. He appeared to be concentrating on something. Lost in whatever crazy creative spell he was working on.

Simon raised his wand and slowly the butterfly rose through the air. All around the cafeteria there was a sudden hush as the students watched the flight of the magenta butterfly as it circled the room and finally fluttered onto Jennifer’s plate.

Jennifer gazed at it in awe. She held her breath as it started to unfold, until at last she could see the words written in beautiful copperplate letters:

“Mr. Simon Black requests the pleasure of Miss Jennifer Meeks to accompany him this evening to Salem High Summer Prom.”

With trembling hands, Jennifer took out her pen and wrote a single word, “yes”. Instantly the butterfly reformed and fluttered over to Simon’s table. Simon read the word and smiled at Jennifer who nodded. It was going to be perfect, she thought.

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(Flash Fiction) "Esmeralda Grunch and the Red Tulip"

Esmeralda Grunch and the Red Tulip

by Debbie Manber Kupfer

Esmeralda Grunch opened her eyes and stretched. She reached up and tugged apart the crimson petals above her head and gazed out at the sunrise.

“Ouch,” screeched the Tulip, “what did you have to do that for? I’ll open up in a little if you just wait for the sun to come out.”

But Esmerelda couldn’t wait. She pushed her way up through the deep red petals and out into the cool morning air. She breathed deeply and let the first rays of the sun touch her tiny gossamer wings. She flew down to the pond, where she gazed at her reflection, satisfied. She was a very fetching flower sprite even if she said so herself, with deep red hair that matched her tulip and a scarlet dress that sparkled in the early morning rays.

The Tulip rearranged its petals and settled down for the day, grumbling to itself. It knew it was supposed to be an honor to be chosen by a flower sprite, but still she could be a bit more grateful; after all the Tulip was unique - she was the only red Tulip in the flower patch.

She gazed haughtily at the other flowers. Such vulgar shades. Only she was the purest red. Her bulb had been a ruby set in the soil, a promise of a fragrant future. Yes, the garden was truly hers, despite what Esmeralda believed.

But still as the day progressed the Tulip became restless. Where was the sprite? She would need to close her petals soon and rest for the night. There in the distance, a fluttering of wings, and Esmeralda landed with the plop in the middle of the Tulip.

“Where have you been?” scolded the Tulip, but Esmeralda didn’t answer. She was already fast asleep. The Tulip sighed as she enfolded Esmeralda in her petals and joined her in peaceful slumber.

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Check out Debbie's blog! http://debbiemanberkupfer.wordpress.com/