It was a moth; that was how it all started.
Persephone had always been an unusual, but highly intelligent, child.
(before we go any further. Yes, Persephone is a strange name. Yes, the other kids at school made fun of it from time to time. No, she didn't care. She loved her name, actually; she thought it fit her. She did once ask her parents how they chose it though. They both shrugged as if the question had never occurred to them. Then her dad said "I don't know. I guess we heard it somewhere and thought it was pretty." She found this answer satisfactory. That was how her parents were; they liked what they liked and saw no need to justify it to anyone. She kind of loved that about them.)
She had little in common with the other kids and so spent most of her time after school alone, often walking in the small section of woods near her house. During one of these excursions, when she was ten years old, she happened upon a large fuzzy cocoon, near the base of a tree. She had always been fascinated by such things, so she knelt down to get a better look at it. As she leaned closer, her face only a few inches from the cocoon to examine the fibers from which it had been constructed, there was a sudden jolt from inside. Startled, she fell back on her heels and then laughed at her own foolishness. It was just a little cocoon, what did she think it was going to do to her? As she watched, the moth inside continued to squirm and stretch at the walls of it's prison. Suddenly she became ecstatic realizing that, if she was patient, she would actually get to see it hatch out. She had never seen that before and she knew instinctively that, if she ever did, it would be the most amazing thing she would ever see.
It was a slow, laborious process and she sat enthralled through the whole thing, unaware of how much time was passing. She watched the cocoon twitch, and stretch, and eventually begin to split. Even at this young age, she understood the importance of this event. She saw the philosophical implications of being witness to this miracle. The humble, and mundane in every way, caterpillar would soon emerge as a beautiful moth who would, no doubt, be admired by all who saw her. Persephone knew on some deep level that it was really her in there. She was about to watch herself transform from this awkward child into something remarkable.
All at once, the cocoon ripped to shreds and what it revealed caused her to fall backward once again. This time she did not laugh. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and terrifying in a way that she would never be able to articulate, or even fully comprehend for herself. She supposed that it was a moth; it at least fit the technical description of one. But she also knew that it was really something else entirely, something that she had every right to be frightened of, even if she couldn't explain why. It was beautiful in a way that made her breath catch in her chest. She imagined this was the kind of beauty that one would find in the eye of a tornado, or at the center of a raging fire; the kind of beauty that a person usually only sees if it is the last thing he or she will ever see.
Okay, you guys, that's all for now. Waste of time? Yea or nay?
Also, you guys know how I use that one picture of Spike to designate all of my poetry posts? (Which I recently realized I haven't done in a very long time, and now I'm disappointed in myself.) Well, I think this ^ picture of Chuck is going to be my new "fiction image." Why? Because Chuck is my very favorite fictional writer, and in this picture he looks utterly terrified which is how I always feel when I share my writing with anyone.