MariposaWolf

The outside world is nonexistent: the audience, the judge, personal anxieties. I wear the shoes of another and disrobe myself of unneeded personalities. Excitement emits from the other actors, their adrenaline becoming mine. Drums pulse in my ear once the stage manager exclaims, "Actors, clear!" The curtains open. Whispers are shushed. Lights mask my eyes as I speak my first lines. Our storytelling begins. Hopefully, an applause starts when the story reaches its "Fin".

The sight was mesmerizing, a warm feeling echoing through me. A bright and beautiful butterfly, amongst bees and wasps and flies, circled and kissed my mom with its soft and caring wings. A mother cursed to encounter rough and ruthless pests, was lovingly embraced by the colorful butterfly. She shone and smiled returning the kisses. Little did we know that the butterfly was cursed himself; his wings torn and ragged from the others who tried to crush him. It was evident that he shone too whenever he appeared before my mother. A grin was plastered on me, their happiness spreading like a virus. They've never been happier, and I want it be be

The hippo wanted the oxbird to stay; she exiled the ticks and the hippo gave her feast. Their relationship is symbiotic. A brazen beak would peck at flesh and turn away unremorseful. But, that's okay. Unknown mistakes are forgivable. Their relationship is symbiotic. The hippo's eyes weren't unclear, however; She remained unmoved as wounds were kept open. A cruel companionship was preferred over experiencing isolation once more. Their relationship was symbiotic. The oxbird took flight, her belly filled with flesh and ticks. The wind under her wings whispered unspoken apologies, and the hippo smiled with forgiveness. The oxbird will return