Red Butterfly Wings Novels & Stories

“Please.” I scrubbed away at the blood on my body. It seemed the more blood I scrubbed, the more blood remained. It seemed hopeless. My body was shaking. I looked down into the bloodied water. The metallic taste was in my mouth, and the stench was in my nose. My knees came to my chest, and I pulled them closer with my arms. I sat in that position and cried. A couple of minutes, later I heard frantic footsteps coming in the bathroom.

Darryl asked her. "I don't know, I just feel like everytime I'm here, I feel complete. My heart feels at peace whenever I sit here, in this swing. Whenever I look at the well, it's like breathing life itself. I do nothing, but sit here. Just watching the birds in the sky, the butterfly in those roses. They're just beautiful." "You're just like her." Darryl regretted what he as soon as he said it. He promised Gonzaloe that he would never tell Patricia about he found out.

"Uhm,Okay" She spun around and walked back into her and returned a moment later with the black brush with a red handle. "Here you go" stretching forth her hand with the brush. His skin came in contact with her knuckles causing her to let go of the handle abruptly. "Thanks" "You are wel_welcome" She couldn't understand why she was getting nervous and intimidated all of a sudden. But she knew she was better off without the hand contact even though it wasn't deliberate on his part.

Odin shouted out as he pointed behind me. I pulled away from Traian and walked over to the floor-length mirror. My eyes were jet black with gray swirling vortex instead of white, and it looked as if I had storm clouds circling my pupil. I turned to the side slightly and saw my new wings, they were stunning, not their usual white opaque sort of look, no, now they were a dark ash gray with a blue, green and purple sheen, like on a magpies wings. They were a lot larger than before and much more magnificent.

I would love to take my time exploring Tana’s dragon form, although it would probably end up being a lot less platonic than it is with Little Red. As I look up at her wings, I can see their delicate beauty. The muscles run along the top of her wing and down the side of her body, almost like the muscles on a human arm, trailing down to lateral muscles on the side of the human body. There is a smaller muscle that covers the bottom of her wing going out to join the top of the wing at the tip. The rest of the wing seems to be made up of some type of covering, dragon skin maybe, with blood vessels and small bones that maintain the structure of the wing. The red coloring makes the wing just shy of

I once or only twice has seen a butterfly that be only from a window. I always found them so pretty. It was yellow in colour with black dots on it. I didn't know what kind of mistake I was doing in order to follow that pretty creature. I didn't notice that I got out of the grass. The butterfly stopped on a wall flapping its wings furiously. But before I could even stare at it from close it abruptly fled away. I was in the commotion that why it flee away so early but suddenly gasped out finding myself in the air. My stomach got pressed against a hard shoulder. Then I realised.

The idea of dressing herself without Gelda’s help still felt strange, and a flicker of sadness gnawed at her as she recalled her old routine. The wind whipped her high ponytail, sending silvery curls streaming over Rhyzar’s broad shoulder. His enormous wings spread behind him, even larger than she remembered, changing color in the dying light—first a muted charcoal, then a bloodred hue as evening settled. The relentless chill of the wind was held at bay by his warm, muscular body, his every movement rippling through the powerful wings that carried them.

She moves her arms gently, no more pain. She opens her eyes to look at herself, her arms are gone, replaced with wings. The tips of her wings were bright orange, then they transition to a darker red colour until her elbow, or where it had been. Then they turn to striped feathers, of a dark yellow almost gold and a deep blood red. She moves them a little, and looks up at Ash and Kai.

Shelley stands, gazing at her brother's frames, running her fingers over the glass which protects its bejewelled occupants. Captives? Prisoners? A tomb.... She reads the labels: Hesperiidae.... Lycaenidae.... Riodinidae.... Gossamer wings, some in metallic blues and golds, other copper or burnished orange, some almost transparent, others in a green which rivals the glorious eyes of the watcher. All rest there, neatly pinned, displayed, categorised and named. "Don't touch the frames, Shelley. You'll get fingerprints on the glass, then I'll have to clean them again."

I turned to the looking glass again to examine my new appendages. There were two pairs. The higher set was significantly larger, and bat-like in shape, with curly black thumbs. Between the black fingers there was leathery webbing, marked with a pattern like that of a common rose butterfly’s wings—alternating stripes of black and grey, with scattered red dots in the corners. The lower, smaller pair of wings had tails like those of a swallowtail, and they conformed to the same pattern, except red spots ran more plentifully down their sides. “I’ve never seen wings like these,” said Salem, gaping in awe. “You really are like something from a fairy tale.”