Glorious colors followed wherever she went, flower to flower, smelling their perfume and tasting their sweet nectar. Humming she went, glancing at the field around her. Violets, pinks, blues, reds and yellows, a whole rainbow of flowers for her alone.

A breeze came, lifting her high into the air, taking her away from home. Free she is, happy to live, for only a few moments ago she had been tapped in a cramped dark room. More beautiful she is since her transformation, no longer the ugly one but one as beautiful as nature itself. Merrily she went on her way, flower to flower, smelling their perfume and tasting their sweet nectar.

Then darkness came over the field. The gentle breeze turned into a fierce wind, howling and sweeping her from her destination, away from the beautiful flowers. Rain came down, darkening, smearing her beautiful colors, making her heavy in the wind.

Weakly she continued, searching for safety, looking for someplace to hide. Trees at the end of the field, shelter from the storm. Struggling against the wind, she went to the dark forest.

Around the trees she went, drenched from the rain. Rain mixed with tears on her cheeks, scared by the storm she had never known before. Darkness surrounded her, chilling her. No more bright sun, no more beautiful flowers. Around she went, looking for something, someone, anything.

A branch broke from the heaviness of the rain. Wind broke through, carrying her faster and faster through the trees. Bumping, crashing, and tumbling until something soft caught her. Safety!

The morning came. She looked around. Not scary as before but not as happy as the field. Silk threads held her beautiful colors, refusing to let go. Struggling. A slight tremor shook the threads. She looked up. A dark shadow fell upon her. Death.

Glancing around, she noticed tiny balls of silk on the threads, oblong and oval. Shaking now, she struggled harder. “Must be free,” she thought.

Closer and closer the shadow came, towering over her. Softness fell on her, covering her beautiful colors. Up and up came the threads, covering her soft face. Darkness once more. She stopped struggling, lying still, she waited…and listened. Never again will she see the beautiful flowers, smell their perfume or taste their sweet nectar.


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