Whisper of the Woods

Benny Gaia paced back and forth, rubbing his temples, trying to imagine even one scenario where anything that happened in his past week would make any sense. He stopped pacing and plopped into an overstuffed brown chair. Benny pushed his hair back away from his face in irritation, watching as his coffee brown locks splayed themselves back in their previous position: everywhere.

   This makes no sense! he thought, frustrated.

   Suddenly, Benny heard a small bump against the window just behind him and looked over. He was unsurprised by what he saw. This wasn’t the first time it’d happened after all. Even still, every time they were like this, Benny sat more confused.

   It was happening again. The butterflies -- golden and supporting a wingspan far too wide to be natural -- were pestering him again. Benny sat unconsciously staring at the dusty violin he couldn’t focus enough to use, contemplating instead the recent odd behavior of not only the butterflies but other wildlife as well. Deer avoided the woods, taking instead to the grass of his messy lawn. He saw the strange silhouettes of beasts he could not name, nor did he dare search for. It was then that Benny realized that he was wasting a beautiful Sunday afternoon with reflection on the past week.

I should be doing something about this! He was lost in thought, so much so that he could hardly remember what exactly it was that he was thinking about after that. He couldn’t seem to recall when he’d later recounted the events to me.

It seemed like the butterflies were whispering to him, but that was impossible, right? He snatched up his Golden Retriever, Walli’s, leash before he snapped it to his vibrant orange collar.  Benny knew that he was delusional the moment he set foot out of his front door, dog leash in hand, and an uncharacteristically determined set to his figure and features. The butterflies were waiting for him. They were silent, but when they started to flutter towards the thick wood that surrounded his wooden home, Benny felt that he had made the right decision and followed. I’ll always wonder if he had.

Benny doesn’t speak with me -- or anyone for that matter -- anymore. He’s gone on the run, from what I’m afraid I’ll never know. I think it has something to do with this incident though. He raved on about it for months before his sudden uproot. It was like it was the only thing he knew. I’m getting off track.

Benny continued to pursue the ever-elusive, brilliant butterflies for hours, eventually, he’d lost track of how many hours he and poor Walli had traveled. They climbed hills, leaped across streams (occasionally stopping and drinking from them), and stayed as close to the butterflies as they could, as to avoid getting lost.

Will we ever get there? Benny thought, tired.

Just as he thought this, the butterflies halted them to a stop. When Walli let out a loud yelp, Benny knew that they were thinking the same thing. The large trees that had stretched a vast distance ahead seemed to disappear like magic. In their place was a crystal-like river. Benny would have thought that the water was glass had it not been for the small fish which moved gracefully with the current.

So it’s true, he thought, It’s really true. The butterflies were trying to lead us somewhere!

After unhooking Walli from his leash, Benny took a small step towards the rushing water in front of him. Walli sprinted for the clear liquid, lapping at it with an intense thirst. When he pulled away from it he winced, prodding at his lips with his dirt covered tongue. Benny walked over to his pet after witnessing this strange behavior.

“You okay boy?” he asked softly, concerned. He swiped at the water and found that he couldn't feel it, only the dirt beneath it.

Walli tilted his head and winced again. Benny could only eye him with confusion before he looked where Walli was looking. His eyes widened and, his jaw dropped.