A story of a butterfly growing up and discovering what it really is.

Run, run and fly As I awoke from my death like sleep of growth in the most pure darkness I began to carve away at my prison cell like temporary house to replenish myself with the lonely awaited breath of fresh clean air. A few fragments of the brittle wall gave way and as the thin blinding beams of sunlight glimmered down onto my face my eyes slammed shut like a vice. I had almost …

…me. I scanned around to see that the sky was orange with zebra stripes. All my brothers and sisters were alive. I flew over to join them on their journey to the feeding grasses of the valley. The thought of food made my stomach roar as I flew of into the sky. I heard a voice from the ground say," hay daddy, look at all those butterflies!" so that's what I called myself, a butterfly.