The Blue Butterfly Pt. 3

Hey guys, Read Part 1 and Part 2 of the Blue Butterfly.
She was 17 when it happened; when he came the first time. She saw him from across the street, as he looked up at the studio from his fancy car. She wasn’t in the mood for chatting with visitors today… especially rich guys in their dad’s flashy cars, so she used the back entrance to the studio and changed quickly in the dressing room hoping that if Miss Maria came to meet her stretching and warming up she wouldn’t pick her to be tour guide for the day. She was lucky. She wasn’t picked to be tour guide. Miss Maria gave the tour herself which was weird but Elise didn’t really care. She was trying to learn a new dance routine and it didn’t involve ass-kissing. He came back the next week and walked into the studio like he owned it. Elise and Marc were dancing then, Marc had lifted her up, and was spinning her above his head and when he dropped her, she landed squarely in front of the stranger. He smiled at her and she smiled back before turning back to Marc.

She didn’t act like it but at that moment if Marc hadn’t been holding her, she would have fallen. Her feet couldn’t hold her up. The stranger’s smile had changed her life, and it was just the beginning.

Three days later, she saw him on her way to the studio with Louisa. He was sitting in Miss Maria’s office and Louisa remarked that she had seen him there the day before too “sitting behind Miss Maria’s desk! Can you imagine the impudence?!!” but really Elise didn’t care. He was just another guy.
An extremely handsome guy, yes. A guy who made her heart skip a beat, yes. But still, a guy. She had too much to think about.
Her mother was sick as usual and there had been no money for a while. Elise had been working after dance class and on her off days to pay the rent but she was getting exhausted easily and it was taking a toll on her. She couldn’t go to school, dance and work at the same time. Something would have to go. If only she could get her mother well enough to work. Everything would be all right.

That evening, on her way home from work, she bumped into him in front of the café by her apartment block. He was with a young woman and he stopped when he saw her and smiled warmly. Elise smiled back at him and he introduced her to the woman as his friend, Joan and Elise saw her smile tighten as he said ‘friend’ and took note. There was history there. He hid it well but poor Joan was obviously not past it; whatever it was. And that night, as she prepared for bed, Elise thought about how handsome guys like him were always oblivious of the attention women gave them. If I was beautiful like her, Elise thought, I would look for a guy slightly less handsome so he would worship me. He must know he doesn’t deserve me. And even though her chest hurt with the memory of his hand around Joan’s waist, Elise was determined not to let any man near her heart. After all, love was a conscious decision. Wasn’t it?



The Blue Butterfly – Pt 2

okay so we get Pt 2 of The Blue Butterfly today. sorry it took a bit but writer’s block, you know, 🙂 so enjoy, and as always tell me what you think. – Rowie.  Read Pt1 here


Elise crouched behind the door, in the space between the door and the wall. Her eyes were tightly shut and she was praying for the first time in her life, praying that no one would find her there, that the men raping her mother wouldn’t see her. Her mother was screaming and crying. Elise crouched lower and covered her head with her small hands, trying to drown out the noise of the men. She had counted 3. She could count to 1000 although she was only 8, her mother had taught her. She heard one of the men laugh and shout to his friend, something she couldn’t understand. Her mother screamed again. Elise wanted to help but even her 8 year old mind told her there was nothing she could do. Except pray that the men didn’t find her, or pray that someone came to help, but no one ever came.

After the men had left, Elise got up and went to kneel at her mother’s side.

“Mama? Mama?” she called softly.

Her mother turned and looked up at her daughter.

“Elise…” she said in a tone that was neither questioning nor answering.

“yes mama.”

“Go and dance Elise”

and Elise got up, picked her dance bag from its hook by the door, and went across the street to the dance studio.

Elise had been dancing since she was 6. She had walked into the studio one day when her father was beating her mother and asked the lady by the door if she could sit and watch the girls. But the pretty young woman had smiled and told her to join them. So she had. And she had loved it. Elise found that when she was dancing, she forgot everything; forgot that her father was beating her mother, forgot that she had left her mother crying, forgot the hunger gnawing at her stomach, forgot her torn clothes. Forgot everything but the dance.

Dancing became her life. She would run to the studio right after school, change in the dressing room and throw herself into the dance. And she was good at it. Miss Maria, the director, had watched her countless times and each time, she marveled at the talent this little girl had, and the way she absorbed the dance. Or rather, the dance absorbed her. Sometimes, Miss Maria felt she should stop her. Send Elise home to deal with her problems and with her pain. This wasn’t healthy. But Miss Maria was also selfish. Watching Elise dance was too beautiful.

So they let her dance. They all pretended they didn’t know why she danced, that they didn’t see her crying sometimes in the bathroom, no one asked any questions. The other girls often invited her for lunch in their homes, pretending they didn’t know how hungry she was, not telling her that it was Miss Maria who told them to invite her, because she was worried Elise wasn’t eating enough.

Miss Maria and the other girls felt they were doing their part by ‘taking care’ of Elise. They couldn’t help her out at home, so they gave her a haven. A place she could go to when things went wrong.

Until one day, their haven wasn’t enough to shelter their little Elise.

Read Pt1 here

The Blue Butterfly – Pt 1

Elise passed her jeweled comb through her long black hair, the stylist had already brushed it many times that evening but Elise never felt right till she passed her lucky comb through her hair herself. Just once was usually enough, but tonight she had combed it once, twice, and she was still combing it. The other girls had already left the changing room, the last one, Maria, looked at Elise as she left with a sad smile on her face. They all knew why Elise couldn’t stop brushing her hair; she didn’t want the show to start, because she didn’t want the show to end.

When Joe had called her into his office the night before and told her they were letting her go she thought it was a joke. She was one of their best dancers. She had been doing this for so many years that she thought she would never stop. This was her life. Dancing was the only thing she knew. But the nature of the business meant the younger girls always got the spot and Elise was no young girl. She was old. Old and tired. That’s what Harry had told her as he left her apartment two weeks ago for the last time. As he dumped her for the girl across the hall. The younger, prettier girl. At that time Elise didn’t care because she had her dancing. Her dancing kept her sane. Kept food on her table and helped her pay her bills. So she didn’t really care about Harry. He was just a warm body, Elise could get a puppy. Puppies were warm bodies too.

But now Elise felt like her life was well and truly over. Harry left her and she lost the one thing that had always kept her going. Her dancing. She didn’t know what she was going to do tomorrow. She hadn’t told her son about Harry leaving. Mickey wouldn’t understand. Her little Mickey who had never understood his mother. When Mickey bought his first house, he had asked her to come and live with him, asked her to stop dancing. He didn’t understand that she needed to dance. They fought then. A long bitter fight that had lasted weeks and he wasn’t really speaking to her even now. He felt she disgraced him with her dancing. “At your age, mama!” he had screamed at her the last time they had spoken. As if she wouldn’t stop if she could. He didn’t understand her need.

Tomorrow morning when she woke up and didn’t have anywhere to go, she didn’t know what she would do.

Elise gave her hair one last, long stroke and put the comb down. She stood up and looked at herself in the full length mirror opposite her dressing table. One last look and she left the dressing room, on her way to the stage. For her final performance as the Blue Butterfly.


Read Part 2 here