Writing Butterfly Asa:Part 1

[Willow]

A short story I wrote a lil while ago. I cut it into three parts. hope you like!


?April is the cruelest month.? I placed the book that I had been reading down beside me on the bed. I gazed at the cover as I thought about what that phrase meant. The words ?The Wasteland? and ?by T.S. Eliot? were beginning to fade on the cover of the old book. I had read this book many times before but never had the first line caught my attention as it did this time. I bit my bottom lip (I always did this while I was thinking). The harder I thought the harder I bit. I have only bit myself to the point of bleeding once. It was when I was a small, uncomprehensive child and I had no idea I was capable of causing pain to others or myself. I always was a foolish child. Yet, it was the memories of childhood that kept me alive.
I again let the first line of the book take priority of my thoughts. I had always liked the month of April, until last year. Last year I realized the true cruelty April possessed. On April 16 of last year my little brother died. Nobody but I knows how he died. If I try to tell someone, they never believe me. They always say it was just his time to go or other junk like that. But I know, I know how he really died. He died of a broken heart. I understand if you may have doubts about this, but it is true.
My little brother?s name was Asa, butterfly Asa, as I liked to call him because he always reminded me of a butterfly. Asa was the most beautiful little boy in the whole world. His hair was slightly curly, and it was the most gorgeous color. It was a strange color for a little boy, it was dark gray, however it never made him look old or anything, it just made him look strangely beautiful. His eyes were the same strange, lovely color. He was a little short for his age, but that never stopped him, it just made him more determined in everything he did. He was my little butterfly.