Butterfly's Sacrifice

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You'd think listening to a vampire tell her life story would be pretty interesting, but I guess she was right after all- I was asleep before we crossed the St. Croix.

~ ~ ~

When my eyes snapped open the next afternoon, my first thought was that I'd had the wildest dream, but one fingertip to the suture on my tongue convinced me otherwise. I leapt out of bed and rushed to my washroom. Flipping on the light, I looked in the mirror, first at the fine cut on my lip, then to the dozen or so bruises upon my bosom. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember it all, then just as quickly I wished I couldn't.

I ran to my window and threw wide the curtains. The sunlight and the world came rushing in. Students walking. Birds picking at the ground. Cars moving along the roads. Dried leaves swirling about the bare trees. My eyes roamed the few shadows I could spy, knowing well there was much to this world that I had not seen before.

For the rest of the day, I was looking over my shoulder, expecting to find a petite blonde looking back. Several times I wandered past the library and remembered her advice, but I wasn't quite ready to go inside. I ate out for both lunch and dinner, and then cursed the lengthening shadows of an autumn afternoon.

A full hour before the sun had set, I was in my dorm with my doors locked and all the lights on, not that I expected any lock or light to protect me. I stayed on the phone with old friends most of the evening, talking about everything except the one thing I wanted to talk about. Who could I tell? Come midnight, I traded old friends for old movies, but they were no better company.

In spite of my fears, nothing went bump that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. A week passed. When Friday arrived, I realized how much my life had changed- I didn't even think about borrowing a car or driving anywhere. Saturday passed much the same and I had begun to wonder if perhaps one of my dates had slipped me some hallucinogenic drug after all. Real or not, my memory had left me determined to be known for something other than the tattoo men saw when they had me bent over.

I awoke Sunday to a knocking at my door. Shaking the cobwebs from my head, I made my way to my peephole. What I saw caused my eyes to widen and my heart to skip a beat. Putting my splayed fingers to my breast, I turned and leaned on the door.

The knocking resumed. "Amy Schroeder!" came a call just loud enough that I was sure everyone in the building must have heard it. "Police! We know you're home. Open the door!"

With a sigh and a swallow, I turned and did just that.

The right-most of the two officers used his index finger to pull the shades down his nose. Looking at me over the darkened lenses, he said, "Good morning, Miss Schroeder. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Michael Stafford." He pushed a photograph toward me and an all-too-familiar face flashed an open-mouthed smile from beneath a pair of bushy brows and uncombed sandy blond hair. "You know him?"

I swallowed. "I don't think so."

He laughed. "We know you do, Butterfly. Why don't you tell us all about it?"

My head began to pivot in a slow shake. "I really don't think you'd believe me. I'm not sure..."

From the right, my eyes caught a motion, just a grey flash, and then she was there, right in front of me- a slender blonde in a charcoal suit wearing even darker sunglasses. My nose picked up her not-so-subtle dose of Lady Stetson. She reached for her breast pocket and produced a pack of Marlboros, but then smiled, put them back, and pulled out a package of Big Red instead.

"Why don't you tell us, anyway?" she said, "You never know what we might believe." She popped a stick of gum into her mouth and leaned forward before continuing in a whisper, "Plus, you never told me about that orgasm."

With a smile spreading across my face, I leaned too, until my nose was but an inch from hers. "Abraham Lincoln," I whispered. "He was president during the Civil War."

THE END
Butterfly's Sacrifice
Copyright 2006 by Penelope Street
Posted with permission at Literotica.com
All other rights reserved.

Special thanks to Helen for her editing expertise.

This is a work of fiction. To the best of the author's knowledge, none of the events depicted ever occurred, nor does Northwest Wisconsin State University exist. All characters are the author's creation. Their views, opinions, and experiences are invented as well and are not meant to promote anyone's personal beliefs or agenda.

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11 Comments
DiannahDiannahalmost 7 years ago
4 stars

Good story.

AnonymousAnonymousover 12 years ago
I'll never look at Fort Snelling the same way.

Thank for an entertaining story in a familiar setting!

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
A thoroughly enjoyable read!

Great story! I especially loved the suprise in the beginning, when the vampires first showed up!

jomarjomarabout 16 years ago
I liked it.

Nice. My comments in your discussion thread.

CharleyHCharleyHabout 17 years ago
:D

What a wonderful tale you weave. My favourite line in the story is: "but one fingertip to the suture on my tongue convinced me otherwise." But then, I am partial to filmic terms like suture. :D Again, great read, Penny!

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