The Lost Butterfly-a story of aliens, love and humans. The Stalker (2b)


Half an hour later a very worried Yoshiasu called home; Fuyuki’s voice was almost inaudible.

-Fuyuki, what happened?! Where are you?

-Please…come home…I’m here…please-Fuyuki’s voice broke.

He wasn’t able to say more; Yoshiasu could clearly discern the sobs, then the line went dead. He quickly assessed the situation and looked for the shortest way home. He excused himself from his colleagues and packed up hurriedly. He caught the earliest flight and by half past eight, he was already home.

He entered the house and found Fuyuki asleep on the bed; he was in his usual troubled position, curled up like a baby. His eyelids were swollen and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Yoshiasu sat next to him and gently touched his companion. Fuyuki stirred and woke up; as he saw Yoshiasu he fled into his arms, hiding his face.

-I’m here- said Yoshiasu in a soothing voice. Fuyuki, look at me…

He gently lifted Fuyuki’s chin but the young man averted his eyes; Yoshiasu spotted the purplish patch on his neck and quickly recognized the suction mark. Pain and anger flooded his heart,  recognizing the eternal source of his companion’s ordeal. He squeezed him and kissed his soft black hair.

-I see- he whispered. Now please calm down and tell me what happened.

Fuyuki buried his face in his palms; Yoshiasu stood up for a moment, went to the kitchen and brought back two glasses of juice from the refrigerator. He handed a glass to Fuyuki and run his fingers through the young man’s hair, ruffling it lovingly. Fuyuki sighed and lifted his face. The violet of his eyes was darkened by sorrow.

-Do you remember when we sat for a coffee on that terrace on M-street?- he asked, his voice only à whisper.

The man was sitting for almost an hour on the terrace on M-street, watching the constant flow of young people walking up and down on that sunny day. Boys and girls, young couples with small children, students, high school graders, young employees…all of them were walking in a colorful, youthful movement, like the waves of a sea of youth and joy. The terrace was almost all the time fully occupied but only for short amounts of time. Young people were coming, sitting, drinking, chatting and then they moved away with their habitual restlessness.

The man enjoyed the sighting; he was sipping slowly  his cup of coffee, watching each face with undiminished interest. He spotted in the oncoming crowd a young couple. They were both tall and slender and were walking hand in hand. The taller one was a young, athletic Japanese man with handsome features and a pleasant smile. The girl on his side was slightly smaller but gracious. Her rebellious black hair was cut short above the neck. Her smile was shy but her eyes held happy and playful sparks. As they came closer, the man realized that he was mistaken: the girl was in fact …a young man of a deceiving and unexpected beauty. Though from a distance he looked like a girl, now as he was sitting at the table it became obvious that he was a male. Besides his delicate and sensual features, he had the most amazing eyes: almond shaped deep lavender-blue and shaded by thick, black eyelashes. His slender, expressive hands spoke about artistic inclination. He was wearing a silver band-ring on his left hand, the same as his companion. They were obviously an item; they looked comfortable and happy together.

They ordered two coffees, a house specialty and they were engaged in light discussion. From a nearby table a young girl approached them, excused herself for intruding and asked for an autograph from the beautiful young man. They invited her to sit at their table while the young artist drew something with an easy hand. He asked her something and the girl pointed out to her other three girlfriends waiting at her table. The artist agreed with a pleasant smile, asked for each girl’s name and the four sketches were ready in a moment. All this time, his companion watched the scene with a proud and loving smile.

The young man handed back the notebook to the girl and she fled back to her group where they all burst into excited giggling. The man watched the whole scene; he just couldn’t take his eyes off that beautiful youth. Almost like sensing the gaze, the artist turned his head and looked in the man’s direction but the other was hidden behind a newspaper and only their eyes met for a moment. The man saw a shadow clouding the amethyst eyes before the young man turned back to his companion and finished his coffee. As they finished, they both rose, paid for the consumption, leaving a generous tip and left.

The man’s eyes followed them closely; the young artist was walking keeping slightly closer to his mate. The man asked the waiter about the couple; he thus learned that the beautiful youth was a much appreciated artist who recently opened an exhibition of his works and that he was married to the handsome Japanese. They were both Canadians and they were traveling across the old continent, each of them with its own business. The man made a mental note; there was a good chance to meet his new obsession at the exhibition hall and have a closer look.

The Lost Butterfly 2-a story of aliens, love and humans . The Stalker (2a)



Fuyuki woke up late that day. The sun was already high in the sky when he emerged from the  dark waters of dreams. He felt dizzy; his head was heavy and he had a foul taste in his mouth. The worst of it was, that despite all efforts, he couldn’t remember anything of the previous evening.

He decided to chill and to  take things slowly so the first thing was to carefully descend from bed. Oddly enough, his whole body was aching. For a moment, he almost fell to his knees. He felt feverish on the inside and the strong daylight pained his senses. He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, then made his way to the shower.

The steady flow of water eased his pains and helped him regain control over his body. He made some disturbing discoveries in the shower; there was a pink, sore spot on his left upper arm and a purplish larger spot on his neck, right under his earlobe. Yet, his memory was blocked, like somebody has hit the “delete” button.

Yoshiasu was due to come home only Friday and today was/ probably/ Wednesday. Fuyuki left the shower and dressed up. He went to the kitchen and took  some salad from the refrigerator, made some toast and a strong, hot coffee to clear his mind. He wasn’t at ease at all; he felt sick and he was alone. He pushed the button on the TV set and let the noise fill the surroundings. He took his cell phone and left a message for Yoshiasu. He was missing him.

Fuyuki eat a little although the food tasted like cardboard in his mouth; he took the mug of coffee and sat on the top of a high chair hoping to clear his mind. Nothing useful came to him so he decided to look into his clothes from the previous day. He found his organizer and remembered that till half past eight he had been at the exhibition hall along with the other four artists. He also found his car keys but he couldn’t remember driving home. As he was trying to fill in the missing moments the doorbell rang and a male voice announced that he had a delivery. Fuyuki opened the door and let the young man in. He was close to his age and was carrying a middle sized box wrapped up in expensive paper.

The name of the sender was unfamiliar but he took the parcel anyway; he didn’t want to create problems for the young guy. He signed for it and gave a generous tip. On a spur of a moment Fuyuki asked the guy if he would like to have a coffee until he looks into the package. Fuyuki felt the need of a living soul next to him; probably the delivery guy sensed something or it was just the shade of fatigue showing in Fuyuki’s violet-blue eyes, but he decided to take the offer. They both sat around the table and Fuyuki unwrapped the parcel: it contained a bottle of very expensive champagne, an equally expensive box of chocolate and an unmarked envelope. Fuyuki took out the envelope and his heart sank; he had a bad feeling about its content.

Giving a small smile to his guest, he stood up and went to the window to look to the content; there were only two items inside- a photo and a white card with only a few words in handwriting: “ You are even more beautiful at a closer look. Thank you.”

Fuyuki felt sick; he didn’t have to look at the photo; he knew exactly what it was. He stood up pale like a sheet of paper and shaking from inside. He took a deep breath and handed the box to the young man.

-Take it, please; it’s yours- he said in a coarse voice.

The delivery guy looked up in surprise.

-But Mr. Tanaka…I can’t…this is very expensive.

-Please…-whispered Fuyuki. Do me this favor. Thank you.

He let the man out; the guy turned to him and asked in a worried voice:

-Are you OK? Do you want me to call a doctor? You’re very pale…

-No, thanks; I can manage-said Fuyuki.

As the puzzled man left with the expensive gift, Fuyuki sat on the bed. He took out his phone and left another message to Yoshiasu. This time it was an urging one: “Come home, please!”

The Lost Butterfly-revised. Ch. 1e

Chapter 1e.

Angela soon became a regular to their house. Yoshiasu had to return to work so he asked his long-time friend to look after Fuyuki. She happily complied; she liked the young artist so she took him under her wings.

She took him out shopping and helped him to buy his own clothes. Yoshiasu was earning well so money was not a problem. Angela also bought colors and all the material he needed for his art and encouraged him to draw and paint. Not surprisingly, Fuyuki’s artworks sold well; though the first buyers were mostly from their close circle of friends, soon the outsiders got to know about his art  and liked it too.

It was Angela who introduced the young artist to the world of computers and Internet and she was pleasantly surprised by the quick progresses made by her apprentice. Getting in closer touch with the real world, helped Fuyuki to build up some confidence and a protective wall. He was still very vulnerable on the inside but this was known only by Yoshiasu and Angela. But being so much around them, made Angela aware that tension was building up under the surface in the life of the two young men.

As Fuyuki seemed to become more independent, Yoshiasu was  becaming more and more distant and busy. He even refused to go out with the two of them, pretending that he had urgent work to do. This particular change in his behavior hurt and puzzled Fuyuki. Though he did his best not to show, a veil of sadness started to dim the light in his eyes. One day, he finally burst out:

-Angela! Please talk to Yoshiasu! He is constantly avoiding me. I must have done something wrong that he doesn’t want me around…

-You did nothing wrong-she said, trying to comfort him. He is just tired and jumpy because of his work.

Fuyuki shuddered.

-I hope you’re right- he said in a small voice. Because I have no reason to live if he doesn’t want me anymore…

-Fuyuki!-protested Angela but the young man has already shut the bedroom door behind him.

Despite her best efforts to get Yoshiasu to talk to her, things were just not adding up. There were days when Yoshiasu was becoming almost monosyllabic, while Fuyuki was trying to put up a brave face. This went on until one day, when Angela showed up right in the middle of the storm. Looking at them, it became obvious for her that the two men had recently fought over something.

Yoshiasu quickly disappeared in the kitchen. “I’m making a coffee”-he said, while Fuyuki’s eyes were red and his voice broke as he spoke to her.

-He’s angry; help him, please. I’ll be fine…-he said though  obviously he wasn’t.

Angela patted him on the shoulder and went to the kitchen where Yoshiasu was fumbling with the coffee pot.

-Why is Fuyuki crying? What have you done to him?-asked Angela.

-Nothing-mumbled the other.

-Yoshiasu, what are you doing?-Angela was getting angry. Why are you pushing him away? It’s so obvious that you’re in love with Fuyuki.

Yoshiasu slammed the pot.

-This is exactly why I don’t want to tie him down to me. I can see that he is getting better and for the first time in his life, he can make a choice for himself. I don’t want him to stay with me simply because I was the one that nurtured him back to life. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Angela shook her head in disbelief; she then grabbed Yoshiasu by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously.

-My friend, you are a fool! You are an even bigger fool that I’ve expected. I can understand your moral concerns but it didn’t cross your mind that maybe Fuyuki has already made his choice and that is you?!

-How would I know?!-shouted Yoshiasu.

Angela slammed her palm to the table.

-What do you expect from him, a solemn declaration, written down or what? For God’s sake, you don’t even realize how lucky you are! Here is this sophisticated, beautiful young man who sees no one but you and you’re uncertain…About what are you uncertain? Let me tell you something as a good friend: I can vouch for Fuyuki’s feelings. He loves YOU, that’s for sure! But seeing how you treat him I come to doubt YOUR feelings towards him: is this really LOVE as you pretend or just infatuation? Make up your mind, man, before it’s too late! After all he has been through, Fuyuki doesn’t deserve this!

There was a moment of deep silence. Angela poured the coffee in three mugs while Yoshiasu stood there, bent over the kitchen table and head in his palms. There was a soft rustle at the door. As they both turned, they saw a pale and shaken Fuyuki leaning against the door frame.

-Yoshiasu, I cannot tell you if this is love-he said in a soft voice. I have never known love before. All I know is that I don’t want to go on without you. Don’t let me go! Please…

Yoshiasu pushed everything aside and quickly closed the distance between them. He cupped the young man’s face with both hands and looked deep into those beautiful lilac eyes.

-Forgive me-he said in a coarse voice. I love you so much…I’ll never let you go. Never!

As Fuyuki folded in his arms, he buried his face in his hair.

-Hmph…That’s better-coughed amusedly Angela. Now let’s have that coffee and talk about the plans for the winter holidays.

The evening turned up fine and they all agreed in spending Christmas together with their friends at an inn in the nearby mountains.



Minutes, seconds, days,hours, years and millenia were falling scattered with the sound of a thousand wind-chimes. The last tick of the clock tore the fabric of the Universe, dismantling Time.

   Ground vanished under his feet and he fell backwards. Slowly. He was falling for an eternity when he finally reached the surface of the primeval ocean. He splashed into the deep blue surface, breaking the thin layers of water. Gloub, gloub….The Ocean opened its mouth, swallowing him. He continued to fall, sinking deeper and deeper inside a history larger than life.

   It was an endless, dense blue of nameless particles, the incipient plasma of atoms and eons. The silence  surrounded him like a cocoon and his limbs slowly relaxed, as he kept floating into the  blue abyss.

   Was he still existing? He couldn’t say for sure and right now, the answer itself seemed senseless and futile. His mind reached out to his extremities, somewhere far, far away and he called them back, curling up into fetal position.He closed his eyes.

    The child was peacefully sleeping in the warm, calm waters of the womb, suckling his thumb. It was all quiet and peaceful in the point of singularity.

    The Universe was not born yet.


(Photo credit: via Poullo Occone, artist/FB)

Ladder to the Sky-a Fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a young man who was living in a small village, up in the high hills. He was a gentle, pleasant young man, with a loving heart. And since he came to the world in a golden autumn morning, they called him Sanjiv.

Sanjiv grew to be a dreamer. With his heart filled with love, his easily flying spirit and keen eyes for beauty, he soon started to turn his dreams into words, then he turned those words into verses. Each day when he finished his daily chores around the house, he would go to sit under the old fig tree in the yard and write another poem on a smooth leaf or on a silky petal of a flower. He then would read these poems to his friends, his family, the people passing by, or simply to the singing birds sitting in the tree above him.

People were listening to him, the return to their work or to their home, shaking their head and smiling.

-Hear, hear!-the y exclaimed. What a poem has our Sanjiv written again! This boy is such a poet!

But the young man with sparkling eyes and hazelnut hair didn’t mind them laughing at him. He kept weaving his poems of morning dew and warming sunshine, of seas of grass and boisterous winds in the hills. Birds and butterflies followed him in the meadows and stars were springing from his footsteps in the night.

One day, love knocked on the door of his heart. On his way to the river that was flowing outside the village, he saw a beautiful girl sitting on the riverbank, braiding flowers in her long, night- black hair. She was so delicate and graceful that for a moment the young man was left breathless. If he was to describe her, all the words coming to his mind would’ve sounded hollow and senseless. He stepped back, not to frighten her and returned home with an aching heart.

This encounter took place many times in the following days, and slowly, the two of them started to talk like good friends. Amrita enjoyed Sanjiv’s poems and she smiled a lot, listening to them. After awhile it became obvious to everyone that they have fallen in love with each other. But when the young man was asking the girl where did she live, she just smiled, pointing somewhere up the highest hill. Oh, the young poet didn’t care much about that! All he needed was to see her day by day. He could barely sleep at night, waiting for the dawn to lit up the skies. He finished his house chores at high speed and filling his pocket with a handful of poetry written on rose petals, he hurried to the river to meet Amrita.

Then once, when he overslept a bit after a hard work’s day, he arrived at their usual meeting place and didn’t find her. He desperately looked around, then up in the sky and he saw a dark cloud carrying away his beloved. She called his name and he ran over hills and meadows and ravines, calling her name but the cloud was faster and disappeared in the skies, leaving Sanjiv alone and heartbroken.

-How can I live without her?-he cried out desperately. I see no beauty anymore and my poems have dried out. I must find her! I must find her!

With the blessing and wishes of good luck from his family, friends and neighbors, Sanjiv began his quest for Amrita. He walked a long way ahead, up and down the hills, the mountains and valleys, he passed through villages and cities, day and night, asking everyone about her. But no one could help him because they didn’t know where she was taken. That dark cloud has seemingly vanished into nothingness. Many days had passed this way, perhaps even a year, when he arrived at the entrance of a dark forest that encircled the feet of the highest mountain ever seen.

Sarat boldly took the narrow pathway leading through the massive columns of the trees and by evening he reached a small clearing with à tidy little house in its center. There was light inside, so he knocked on the door. The door opened and an elderly woman stood before him, looking at him questioningly.

-Good evening, venerable mother-said the young man with a bow. Could you please help me? I need some guidance in this place.

She smiled at him and she opened wide the door of the house, gesturing to let him in.

-Good evening, my son. Come inside and have some rest. Your clothes carry the dust of many long roads and your shoes are worn out. It’s been awhile since I had company, so while we eat dinner, you can tell me your story. Then we’ll see what can be done.

The dinner was delicious and Sanjiv told his host all about his quest for Amrita. The elderly lady listened carefully, then she said.

-I know your beloved, my son and you are in the right place. But first of all, you need à good sleep. Then in the morning, I’ll give you the necessary advice to find her.

Sanjiv thanked her and for the first time after so much time, he went to sleep with new hope in his heart. The next morning, after a generous breakfast, he was drinking à tea with his venerable host when she took out à pair of new shoes and gave him, saying:

-Take these shoes, Sanjiv. They are magical and they will carry you further much easier. In the evening, you will reach the house of my younger sister. I wrote her a letter and she will help you on. Walk in peace, my son and don’t give up on your dream!

The young man thanked her and took again the narrow path. Just as he’s been told, another little house was standing before him and the lady inhabiting it was kind and generous too. She listened to his story, shaking her head thoughtfully and in the morning, she gave him a walking stick and a ball of silver thread.

-You will need this stick to climb the mountain. Take care of that ball of thread because you might need it once you arrive atop. Walk in peace and give my regards to our younger sister! She will be your host tonight.

Sanjiv walked with renewed hope in his heart and as the night was spreading its velvet wings upon the land, he was standing before the third sister. She was the youngest of all and she had some playful sparks in her dark brown eyes. She treated him well and she asked him to recite her some of his poems.

-You have embarked on a very difficult mission, young man. The girl you love is the daughter of the Spirit of the Mountain. She’s been engaged since her childhood to the King of the Clouds but she rebelled against the will of his father and ran away. The dark cloud was sent by her fiance to find her and it brought her back here. But she was adamant in refusing him. Now, her father locked Amrita in a floating tower up high, where no one can reach her. Knowing the Spirit of the Mountain, I would say that your attempt is futile. But listening to your poems, I see some hope. Now get some sleep and we’ll talk again in the morning.

When the morning broke, Sanjiv jumped to his feet, eager to get close to his lost love. After breakfast, the youngest sister gave him à rose and a pomegranate.

-Here, take these -she said. This rose has 100 petals and each of it can carry à poem without withering. The pomegranate will feed you all along your final quest. Good luck, young poet! Follow your heart!

Sanjiv thanked her, bowing respectfully and then took the pathway till he left the forest and found himself at the feet of the mountain. It was a sky high mountain of glass, steep and slippery, impossible to climb without the special shoes and the walking stick he got from the sisters. It took him 3 days and 3 night to reach the top but in the morning of the fourth day , he found himself standing on a large and empty plateau, covered by grass. He raised his head, looking for the tower. It was there, up high. The golden building reminded him of a golden cage built to hold captive a precious singing bird, a beautiful but sad place and a cruel endeavour.

Sanjiv sighed. How would he get up there? Suddenly, the ball of silver thread fell off his pocket. The young man took it and threw it up, towards the sky. The ball flew, unfolding its thread, until it reached the tower and fell inside an open window, sticking to the floor. A young girl peeked out that window, looking down where Sanjiv was standing.

-Who are you and what do you want? -she asked.

-I am Sanjiv, the poet and I am looking for my beloved Amrita. I came for her from faraway. Is she there with you, my lady?

-Hush, there, young man!-said the girl. If her father finds out about you, we will be all in grave danger. He has erased her memories, hoping that she will submit to his will but he did not succeed. I don’t think she knows who you are anymore. I’m sorry that you came so far, but…

-Stop! Listen to me! I’ll send you up a poem through this silver thread. Please, leave it next to Amrita’s bed.

Sanjiv took of a petal of the rose and wrote a poem upon it, the put it on the silver thread. The girl took up the petal and released the thread. She placed the red petal next to her mistress, without saying a word. When Amrita woke up, she found the petal and the poem written on it. She read it carefully and she smiled for the first time after so many days. The poem was beautiful and it was warming up her saddened heart. She placed the petal in a crystal jar, hiding it carefully.

Down on the plateau, Sanjiv took a seed of pomegranate and went to sleep, thinking about Amrita. He followed this ritual 99 days, sending up 99 red petals of poetry and love, recounting the story of love he and Amrita had shared at the river. Each day, the memories of the beautiful girl cleared and returned bit by bit. She could hardly believed her ears when her maiden told her about Sanjiv. On the hundredth day, she opened the window and looked down to the plateau. She saw Sarat tying up the last petal of the rose.

-Sanjiv! My beloved Sanjiv! I’m here!-she exclaimed.

-Amrita!-shouted the young man from below. I finally found you!

But the Spirit of the Mountain heard them talking and came in a hurry, angered by the daring young man and his rebellious daughter.

-Who are you?!-boomed his voice-And how dare you trespass my land?! What do you want from my daughter, you Earthling?

But Sanjiv wasn’t easily scared. He bowed curtly and confronted the Spirit.

-Sire, I came here from far away because I love Amrita and I know that she loves me to. I might not be a prince or a king, but my heart is pure and my love sincere. So I ask you to let us fulfil our love and release your daughter from her prison!

-Hmmmm-growled the Spirit. You’re quite bold for an Earthling. If you want to free your beloved, so be it! But you have to build a ladder for her to come down! If you can’t do it, she’ll remain à prisoner and I will crush you like a vermin!

Hearing the sentence of her father, Amrita burst into tears. She feared for Sanjiv’s life. She pleaded with him to leave her and save his own life. But love is a powerful magic and in an instant, the young man found the solution.

-Amrita!-he shouted. Bring the rose petal poems and let them fly!

She rushed to her room, took the crystal jar and went to the window. She released the blazing red petals to the earth. Sanjiv tied the last petal to the silver thread and then, one after the other, the 99 petals stick together in a ladder connecting earth and sky. Each poem, each word connected in a strong rope and the young man stepped forward, holding it in place.

-Come, my love!-he shouted. You can descend now! I’m waiting for you!

The moment Amrita put her feet on the first step, the love connecting their hearts ran through the ladder of poems, making it even stronger. The girl descended safely, right in the arms of her loving poet.

It was the turn of the Spirit of the Mountain to recognize his defeat and to respect his promise. He gave his blessing to the love that has proved itself so powerful and from that day, Sanjiv and Amrita lived happily together in the little, peaceful village up in the hills. Their love is remembered till these days. The legend says that all the poets will find one day the love that will stay with them forever.