Let me just say, the word 'papillon' means butterfly in French, I'm 99.8 percent sure of it.

Anyway, enjoy! I own these specific characters, plot line, ect. This story is written in a simple surreal way because it is truly meant to be a fable story.

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One windy night the moth was fluttering through the damp mist of a vast meadow. With her was her companion, another moth. The two floated over the grass and laughed and giggled, dancing in the youthful moonlight. They immediately stopped their dancing and looked down, twords the earth. Spots of color splashed across the pale green grass, catching their interest. The first moth gasped in awe and started to float down to the vibrant colors. Her friend called out to her.

"Don't go down there, my friend. I have yet to see such unusual colors in the world, and I don't trust them."

But her naïve friend just giggled and said,

"Oh, surely their beauty can only mean wonder and serenity!".

And with that she fluttered down, slowly followed by her reluctant companion, and got her first look at the flowers. They varied in shape, color, and scent. The moth's eyes widened in amazement, and she fell in love with the flowers at once. Her comrade called to the moth.

"Leave them. You can't trust their illusions!"

But her friend only had eyes for the flowers which had captured her thoughts so completely. She drifted down and landed on one of their glossy petals.

"Oh beautiful flower," she whispered dreamily, "be mine, I love you.".

Apon hearing this, the flowers raised their leaves and wrapped themselves around the awed moth. Her companion screamed in terror, but it was too late. When the petals released the young moth, she was brightly colored, just as the flowers. Her friend cried out.

"Look at yourself!" she cried, "Those flowers have stained you! Come, come with me so that those evil colors may drain off of you as we fly around the moon."

But the newly colored moth wouldn't hear it.

"No" she said, lying on the petal, "I'd much prefer to stay here with my loves. It's too dark and cold to fly, anyway…..Suddenly I'd much prefer sunlight and warmth to this cold night." she finished, starting to doze off.

Her poor friend's eyes glistened with tears.

"Then we cannot be together again. We are different, you and I."

And the next day, the moth fluttered in the sunlight with others who had been drawn in by the flowers, and took on a different name of Papillon. Every night, instead of dancing in the moonlight, she slept with her other friends and with those she adored, the flowers.

And every night, from then and on, her lost companion, Moth, flutters alone with a heavy heart, crying tears that appear on the grass in the morning and disappear with the sunlight.

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Review please? I'll give you cookies…!