FABLE
Sam eyed the disheveled man warily
as he stumbled in her direction. The man’s overcoat was too clean for someone
who appeared to be homeless but his leathery skin and shaggy, greasy hair,
which somehow managed to simultaneously stick up and hang down in ropy strands,
suggested otherwise. Either way, Sam was not eager to make his acquaintance, so
she began to walk faster, fiddling with her lip ring.
The man moved a lot faster than Sam
would have thought he could. He was suddenly at her side, keeping pace with a
strange rolling gait, like a wolf moving through a wintry forest.
“Wanna buy
some butterflies?” the man asked in a hissing whisper. He smelled like rotten
fruit, all at once sweet and cloying. Sam was so surprised by the odd request
that she looked at the man. His eyes were lanced with flecks of gold- giving
them an uneasy yellow tinge.
“What? No,”
Sam muttered, picking up her pace, and unconsciously zipping up her hoodie up
to her throat. Undeterred, the would-be butterfly merchant continued, reaching
into one of the pockets of his overcoat.
“You look
like a girl who needs a butterfly,” he said, pulling his hand out and opening
it flat in front of Sam’s face. His grimy potato hand trembled; giving the
dried pods in his palm the appearance of movement. Sam drew her head back
sharply. The brown, papery things looked like hollowed-out cigars, but still
looked dead. AS if they were connected to organic life in some way. Sam stooped walking.
“These
aren’t butterflies,” Sam retorted, her eyes darting in all directions for an
escape route. The man stared down at his palm for a moment as if struck with
the realization that Sam spoke the truth, his mouth hanging open. Then he
grinned, revealing very yellow but otherwise intact teeth.
“Yes, yes.
They are just asleep. Cocoons,” the man offered, holding his palm out, closer
to Sam.
Sam
suddenly reached into her bag. The man seemed harmless, and if giving him a
dollar for some old rolled up leaf would get rid of him, that was fine, and he
could use the money more than she did, undoubtedly.
“Alright, I
will take one,” Sam said, glancing down to look inside her bag, pushing the
contents around in search of her cash purse. “How much?”
The man smiled
again, his face wrinkling with brown lines criss-crossing the darkened leather
of his face. He squinted at the pods in
his hand, touching each one and muttering inaudibly. He finally chose one and
handed it to Sam. It almost seemed to twitch in her own palm, but Sam knew it
was just a sensory illusion.
“For you,
the price is a simple one. One butterfly for one . . .” Cupping the pod in her
hand, she pulled out her purse and undid the clasp. She began to tug out a
dollar.
“ . . .
kiss,” the man finished. Sam gasped, her face flushing scarlet. She shoved her
purse back into her bag, inadvertently also dropping the ‘cocoon’ into the bag.
She backed away from the lunatic.
“What the
fuck?” Sam exclaimed, “no way I am gonna do that with you, you sicko pervert!
God!”
The man
actually seemed genuinely offended. He jammed his hand back into his pocket,
disposing of the other pods. Then he brought his hands up in a gesture that
appeared at once defensive and accusatory.
“Did I say
the kiss was for me? Girl, don’t flatter yourself,” he spat. “But you gotta
pay.”
Sam stared
at the disheveled man. She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Thanks, but no thanks,”
she said. “You can keep your damn bullshit fake cocoon.”
“Chrysalis,”
the man replied, his eyes glittering in the late morning sun. Sam frowned,
shaking her head in obvious puzzlement. “It’s called a chrysalis, not a cocoon
actually,” the man explained. “You took it. That means you did need it, and
since you took it, I expect payment.”
“Oh my
God,” Sam exclaimed. Here, take it back!” She rummaged through her bag, but she
could not find any sign of the dried pod inside. The man shrugged.
“You don’t
seem to be a thief, but if you don’t pay me, then I gotta report you.” Sam
snapped her head up to glare at the man, and then continued to dig through her
bag. After another minute or so, she shut her eyes and let her hands drop.
“Are you
kidding me?” she complained, addressing the sky above.
“A kiss,”
the man insisted, “and you may keep the chrysalis.”
“It’s not
even in my bag!” Sam protested. The man sighed, and looked down the street. He
began to wave wildly, and Sam followed his gaze to discover to her great horror
and embarrassment that he was trying to flag down a police squad car. She
plucked at the man’s sleeve. “Alright, alright, Christ!” she hissed. She leaned
forward to give the man a peck on his cheek, but the man evaded her, again with
speed that belied his appearance.
“What did I
tell you?” the man thrust his head forward as he held up his hands in an
overblown gesture of exasperation. “Kiss ain’t for me!”
Sam closed
her eyes. This was such a bizarre thing happening to her. She shook her head
slightly and bit the bullet. “Fine. Then
who?”
In reply,
the butterfly merchant pointed past Sam, indicating the coffeehouse window
behind her. Sam looked, noticed her own reflection: a young brunette with a red
hoodie and a green-blue skirt. Then she
saw past the reflection. A very handsome man sat inside, drinking coffee and
reading a book. Sam turned to look at the butterfly merchant with a raised
eyebrow.
The man was
gone. Vanished. Sam glanced up and down and across the street, but the man had
truly disappeared. She frowned, her brain experiencing sudden and extreme
fatigue. She needed coffee. And here was a coffeehouse with a very cute guy
inside. What the hell.
After
ordering her latte, Sam maneuvered her way towards the table where the handsome
man sat. She planned to just flash him a smile, but then she noticed the
chrysalis on the table. She stopped short, staring at the dried, yet
fresher-looking pod. This one had a greenish tinge and also appeared to pulse
slightly.
The man
noticed her staring and when he followed her gaze to the chrysalis, he blinked
in surprise. He began to rise out of his seat.
“Did he
send you?” he asked, his tone earnest.
Sam cocked her head, her question unspoken but plain upon her face.
“He said it
would be the first woman to stop and notice the cocoon.” He explained,
gesturing toward the pod.
“Chrysalis,”
Sam corrected automatically. “Uh- I mean, well, he did tell me I should come
inside, so I guess in a way he did. Did he give you that?” The man nodded, then
abruptly shook his head.
“No, no he
didn’t give it to me. He sold it actually. Well, kind of. It wasn’t for money,”
the man stammered, blushing in a very cute manner, Sam thought. She let him flounder
for a couple more seconds before interrupting him gently.
“He tried
to sell me one, too, so I know what you mean. What did you buy it for?”
The man’s
face became even more crimson, his mouth opening and closing like a fish
gasping for air. He shook his head, shrugging, all the while with a nervous
smile. “I- ah, it’s kind of- oh this is just-“ Sam suddenly smiled.
“Was it for
a kiss?” Sam thought the man might faint, he was so flustered. But eventually,
the man managed to nod. Entertained by his shyness, Sam decided to take a risk.
What harm could it do, after all? She shrugged amiably, still smiling. “Well a
sale is a sale,” she remarked, and leaned over to kiss the man on his cheek.
With
predatory swiftness, he turned his head so that his lips met Sam’s. She tried
to draw back, but it was as if her lips had touched an electric fence. A
buzzing, bright, tingling sensation stung her lips, then spread to her neck,
her shoulders, her breasts, hands, and stomach. She started as the not
altogether unpleasant sensation reached her thighs and everything in
between. Her vision filled with static,
and she went limp as she gave herself up to the experience.
Sam
blinked, confused. She stood outside the coffeehouse, hands still raised
slightly in annoyance at the butterfly merchant’s disappearance. She glanced at
the window, and saw the handsome man seated, still engrossed in his book.
Did she
just have some kind of bizarre hallucination, some weird daydream? Sam shook
her head, slightly dazed. Without being fully aware of her movement, she
approached the bus stop two blocks north of her. It seemed like a good day to
leave town. She’d go as far as she could, and then see how much further she
could walk. A breeze came up, and she pulled her hood over her head. While she
waited at the stop, she began rummaging through her bag for fare money.
Her fingers
came across an odd object she couldn’t identify by touch. It was velvety
smooth, slightly yielding, yet had some rigid edges. Grasping the object she
brought it out and gasped in wonder. She held a chrysalis, but one quite
different than the one she’d acquired earlier. This one was a vibrant green,
looking very fresh, and it pulsed with life. She could feel something moving
inside.
Without
really knowing why, she raised the chrysalis to her lips, and then put it
inside her mouth. She let it lie upon her tongue for a moment. It tasted
slightly bitter, but also made her think of the earth and of leaves and rain.
Then she swallowed it whole, just as the bus came up.
She didn’t
see the man from inside the coffeehouse standing outside on the sidewalk half a
block down from the bus stop, watching as she boarded the bus. She didn’t see
how his face began to change; how his hair grew long and tangled, how his
smoothly shaven chin sprouted a beard. How his eyes grew lighter in color,
until they were almost gold. How his skin darkened and wrinkled like leather.
How he reached into the pocket of the overcoat that had suddenly appeared upon
his frame. How when he smiled at the departing bus, his teeth practically
glowed, the canines long like a wolf.
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