Rain on My Wings by Juliet Rose (chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT) 📖

I remember the first time I changed. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t some long drawn out process like I’d expected. It was quick, almost in the blink of an eye. One moment I was Aeryn, and the next I was flying aimlessly through the rain, headed to nowhere.
I watched as people took cover in buildings and crowded together under umbrellas. I tried over and over to scream as the harsh wind blew against my delicate wings. But I couldn’t. My lips were gone. My body was gone. I was gone.
I couldn’t even cry if I wanted to, I knew that. I had lived my entire life without shedding a single tear. My mom used to say that I was somehow waterproofed in the womb.
I saw a young couple walking carelessly through the pouring rain, the drops quickly soaking them from head to toe. I envied them. I wanted to feel the cool drops crash onto my skin. I wanted to dance as the gentle rain slowly drenched my long brown hair. But I couldn’t. I was stuck as an inferior to the beautiful rain, and it was pounding me with its unforgiving fists.
Not knowing what else to do, I continued to fly. I flew past streets and houses, not once taking the time to note which ones. My wings flew past countless people, all clueless to the fact that I was one of their kind, trapped in this foreign body. Part of me wanted to cry out to them, to see if somehow, they could help me put the pieces together.
The ruthless wind blew violently, causing my unfamiliar senses to pick up a scent that I had smelled many times before, but never this intensely.
I carefully veered to my right to discover that the wonderful smell was coming from the small coffee shop on Ruth St. I inhaled deeply, something I didn’t even know I could do. My lungs filled with the sweet, bitter air, reminding me of where I truly belonged. I had just been there the night before with my best friend, but of course, it all looked so different now.
Just then, I heard something. It was strong enough to break my gaze inside the coffee shop and send my eyes searching for the source.
It was music, beautiful music.
I followed it.
Even through the raging storm, the song rang loud and clear in my ears. It was as if the simple melody was dragging me in, pulling me closer, deeper. The enchanting sound held my heart, my mind, the only two things that were still undeniably me.
Why was I so drawn to this?
It was all I could think of.
My small iridescent wings took me down an unfamiliar street. I was driven forward with the desperation of finding some small, even faint glimmer of hope in this confused world.
Then, as I rounded the corner, I saw it.
It was a boy, sitting on a wooden porch swing. And in his arms, was a guitar.
I landed on a tree branch across the yard, which thankfully provided some shelter from the heavy rain. I tried to shake my wings dry, but when that didn't work, I accepted my cold state and just listened.
As I listened, all my worries seemed to fade away.
My mind was gone, slowly melting away into each song he played. Unconsiously, I let out a shiver, a shiver I'm not sure was from the cold.
Finally, I left my spot on the branch and flew down, landing silently on the railing directly in front of the boy. His eyes were closed, lost in the song. I could feel his emotions as he sang his heart away, the echoey sounds bouncing off the wooden porch and out into the rainy night.
I wanted him to see me, to open his eyes and simply acknowledge my presence. But I knew he wouldn’t. To him, I was only a speck in the universe, a beautiful but unimportant creature. He would not see me, because right now...
I was a butterfly.


Mason

Oh my soul,
Please stay with me, dont ever leave me,
Oh my heart,
I never thought that you'd betray me,
Oh my mind,
Slowing down the sands of time.

That was the first night I saw the butterfly. It seemed to be watching me with its tiny little eyes, as if I was some artifact being intricately studied. It looked almost surprised as I stopped strumming to look its way.
Can butterflies even fly in the rain?
I didn't think so, but then again, who was I to tell it that.
I expected the delicate mass of insect to fly away at any second, off to win somebody else's admiration. But as I sang, the creature sat there with its beautiful golden-white wings folded upright towards the sky. Traces of water were still gracefully beading off the sides.
I carefully leaned my guitar against the dry walls of the porch in order to get a closer look, hoping not to scare it away in the process.
I took a step forward.
Nothing.
I stepped another.
The creature remained.
I continued to creep my way forward until I stood about a foot away from its tiny majestic wings.
Beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I had to remind myself that this creature was actually real.
Underneath the trailing raindrops lay a sea of pure white, brushed gently with gold dust. If you looked closely you could see swirls of deep golden flecks that only added to the unexpected elegance of the butterfly's appearance.
As the water continued to slide off, it formed a shimmering waterfall, magnifying the traces of gold and pulling them along as the drops fell and hit the porch.
I could somehow feel it. Its eyes never left me. As if my presence alone was enough to keep it from flying away. As if it was here for me. Just me.
The rain was beginning to soften, even though the sky was still covered in a blanket of clouds. I dared to break my gaze from the butterfly, letting my eyes trail a little longer before looking out to observe the change in weather. A tiny drizzle was all that remained of the once raging storm, along with a slight breeze that beckoned me to close my eyes and simply absorb its brilliance.
I stole one last glance at my butterfly, who was now facing out towards the open air, before shutting my eyes with a deep, audible breath.
When my eyes finally opened, the beautiful, golden butterfly was gone.

It was a dream, and I had been expecting it. I awoke in a cold sweat, sensations of the past still fresh on my skin. I looked around, taking in my surroundings.
    The clock in my room read 3:45am. I appeared to be home, curled up in a far corner of my bed with every inch of cover kicked onto the floor. A layer of sweat drenched my body, feeling like a weight upon my trembling form.
    I quickly glanced at my limbs, in order to confirm my human state. Still Aeryn.
I let out a deep, thankful sigh of relief and turned to lean with my back against the wall.
    This was the sixth night I had had that dream, replicating the night of my first change. Every detail was exact, probably because I had never tried to forget them. It did, however, leave behind a hole, a hole that had always seemed impossible to fill. It brought back memories from my life as a normal 11 year old girl, loving life, and thinking boys were the only troubles ahead. 
    It had been six years since then, and I had learned to deal with my changes. The process was pretty simple once I'd figured it out.
Every rainfall, wherever I may be, I was transformed into a tiny, helpless butterfly and sent out into the world. Then, when the rain decided to end, I was instantaneously positioned back to the place I was last human, good as new.
The hard part, I'd learned, was finding an inconspicuous place to hide before it was too late. I had had many close calls over the years, resulting in a mad dash behind a building, or a lengthy "trip to the bathroom."
One of my most recent experiences happened about a year ago.
It was a sunny, partly cloudy afternoon and I was spending the day with one of my neighbors, Hunter. I had skipped my usual "morning weather check-up" and headed straight outside, seeing no real threat of rain in the sky's appearance. No reason to worry, right?
Wrong. My weather forecast had been terribly inaccurate. At about 1:55, a meteorologist came on the t.v. across the hall, and so graciously informed us that, "We are expecting a heavy rain coming in from the north to arrive at about 2:05 this afternoon. So it's a great day to sit down