Butterfly EffectMature

Theadora Evans

It's funny. The only thing I used to be terrified of was butterflies. The way they flapped their wings and came flying from no where used to shake me up so much that it reduced me to a wreck every time I saw one. I know they were small and that they couldn't hurt me but it was a phobia I couldn't get rid off. 

I remember reading once, about something called the Butterfly Effect.The idea stands that the flap of a butterfly's wing could create a small change in the atmosphere, which could result in a hurricane forming somewhere else. I don't know if this is actually true - I doubt it is, but it makes you think about the tiniest things that make the biggest differences. 

Picking up the wrong flyer at school, so joining the choir instead of ballet where you then meet your best friend for life. Not seeing the red light, causing you to crash on your way to an University interview which you then miss and lose your place.

Bending down to tie your shoelace, causing you to miss the bus and therefore making you late home so you miss the huge explosion that would have surely killed you. As I stood in front of the broken remains of my childhood home, it was easier to blame it on a random butterfly rather than a nation of Human Beings.

I stepped over the crumbled gate and made my way up the path. Flowers used to border the flagstones but all that framed my way was ash and debris. I hadn't been here since the explosion and I was determined not to cry. I would not let this place see my anguish. 

There was no point knocking on the door - there hadn't been anyone home for a while now. In fact, there wasn't even a door to knock. I took one look at the stairs and decided they were not safe enough to climb so I made my way to the back room. This is where they had been apparently. All of them. 

Had they known they were going to die? Who am I kidding, everybody knows they are going to die these days. If its not the disease that takes you, its a natural disaster or a nuclear bomb. Why did we, as a species, feel the need to destroy everything we see? All of the beauty we are given we need to take and distort it till its nothing but a broken reminder of what we once had. 

Five minutes was all I could handle, so I made my way back onto the street. There was only one house standing, but they had been taken by the illness long before the bomb.

I couldn't decide whether they were lucky ones or not. 

The End

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