Read Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I for Free Online Page A

passed and it was time for him to pause once more. He flew to
the drop again and looked. He was magnificent, unlike anything ever
seen before. Mottled, mixed, contrasting bright green and brown
cream filled in his wings. The moth realized he could stop now and
that all would think him beautiful, heck even the butterfly would
likely have accepted such a result even if she would have been mad
at first. But no, it was insufficient. He needed the rush of pure
unbridled power, he needed that great green, that beautiful beloved
green. He flew back to end his work.
    When the butterfly awoke
she did not know what had happened, all she knew was that flight
then felt quite hard. Her wings seemed strangely heavy. She hobbled
over to a glistening dew drop, and immediately she knew. She was
sad, not because of the green, for though she loved it she knew it
was but pigment, but because of the moth and his cruel misdeeds.
She would not have given him her green, twas true, but why ought
she have to at all. From that day on the butterfly never saw the
moth again. The moth then flew in the nighttimes only, having
returned to his predestined task. He hid from her, and from his own
shame, and so they did not meet. The moth was happy though, he now
ruled the night not only with criminal finesse but with arresting
beauty too.
    The butterfly took
betrayal badly, she could not find joy again, nor trust either. No
plant, no flower, no bewildered bug could make her smile or fly as
she once had. To make things that much worse, the garden's rules
were strict on the matter, so she left. Forever. The magical
orchard did not permit sadness, and she knew that she could not
overcome it, not this time, and certainly not with the moth about.
She was only a butterfly, she could not change, not forever. So
long as the moth was alive in that place she could not
be.
    At least the moth had
indeed become the most beautiful moth ever to have been seen. He
stayed awake for days and days, showing off his green color, always
doting upon what was now his, as publicly as he could. By all
accounts, he was stunning; a flying fragment of jade. He would
never be the joyful sparkling emerald that the butterfly had
resembled, but that had never mattered. His new found bright color,
sadly, made him a most visible moth. As chance would have it, one
late evening, just as he set out to pollinate the night plants an
owl flew by, and at that same moment, thinking to itself how hungry
it was, and how it envied the parrot's beauty, the fat owl spotted
the moth, and within moments had gained a nutritious crunchy
snack.
    The butterfly fluttered
about, gaining more happiness each day, meeting many in her
travels. It was a shame she could never learn of the moth’s
inglorious demise. Some years on, butterfly years, of course, the
butterfly was quite happy, she was quite content but dared not go
back, for she knew she'd lose what joy she'd gained were she to see
that awful moth again. Even so she remained loved by all, not
because of her color but rather her personality and friendly
nature. It was a shame that on a balmy afternoon, on her way to
meet a newfound friend, one whom she planned to tell about the
magic garden, the dull, but happy, brown butterfly learned, rather
violently, of the existence of a 2005 CTS, bright sky blue, owned
by a Ms. Apphrodite, a local horticulturist.

21 – The Light Under The
Stairs
    The air felt
eerie even though they'd lived there for three months. Maybe it was
the intense silence, of the sort that makes one whisper, just to
make sure one still hears. It was to be expected in a dwelling of
this age - the walls were very thick indeed.
    She hadn't been
quite as accepting. She knew there had to be some paranormal
explanation, but then that was typical. “How could a house this old
NOT have some proverbial or even literal skeletons
in ‽ ” She knew
that such thoughts were silly, so she deferred to him, and they got
on with their lives, ignoring the