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There were so many. Thousands. Each one a striking masterpiece of blue. They covered her in a delicate gown of beauty.
Then something startled them, and they flew away in a whoosh. She shielded her naked curves from the light as a lone, red butterfly fluttered to her shoulder.
Crimson wings with hues of gold and a bold white stripe waved slowly as it landed. Another appeared, coming to her as well, and she laughed. This had to be a dream.
More red butterflies and more landed on her until every indecent inch of flesh was covered. Their cumulative weight was notable. Another swarm arrived, batting around her for a place to land and filling even the tiniest gap until the sense of suffocation slowly took hold.
Something pinched, and she struggled to lift her arm, carefully pushing away the sleeve of red wings, but as she pushed the butterflies away more came to land.
A thin rivulet of blood slid to between her fingers. “What the...”
A strange itch crawled over her skin and she swept a hand down her arm again, knocking the delicate creatures away with less care than before. Smears of crimson marked her skin leaving the tingle of fire inside each little bite. Frantic, she tried to shove them off, but some were already latched to her flesh.
She flicked harder, plucking away their bodies, careless of their wings. As they pinched and bit her skin grew overwhelmed by their tiny teeth, outnumbered by their abundance.
Claustrophobia stole her breath as she ripped them off her, damaging their wings and weakening at the sight of so many bleeding bites marking her flesh.
They climbed over her chest, biting her breasts and closing in on her throat. She choked, swallowing futile puffs of air as she slapped them away. She could feel them drinking from her, sapping her strength and pulling her under some sort of spell.
Wounded butterflies dropped to the moss-covered ground, twitching and fluttering back to her exposed, bloody skin. They landed on her face and eyes, blinding her, stinging her, eating her alive.
“Get off of me!”
“Annalise!”
She jerked forward, running full speed as the ground disappeared and she landed with a painful thud.
“Holy shit, are you all right?”
Panting, she held her hands defensively in front of her as she searched the darkness. “Kyle?”
He flicked on a lamp and she winced at the brightness. “You fell off the bed.”
She scanned the room. No insects. No waterfalls. No damn butterflies. Just Kyle, which...
She must have fallen asleep here. Not the first time and still no less awkward than the last. Time to make a fast exit.
“I had a bad dream.” She couldn’t recall having nightmares since she was a child.
“You want some water or something?”
Her heartbeat slowed and she nodded. “Thanks.”
She glanced at the curtains. It was morning. She should head home.
Kyle returned and handed her a glass. “Wanna talk about it? Sometimes that helps.”
She took the water and guzzled it down. God, she was thirsty. Maybe she needed to start taking supplements or something. “No. It’s stupid. You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t.”
Pursing her lips, and not expecting him to keep his word, she said, “I was attacked by butterflies.”
As predicted, he laughed. “Butterflies?”
“Yes. It was scary. And you promised not to laugh.”
He dragged a hand over his face, wiping away his smirk. “Sorry. That does sound terrifying.”
“They weren’t normal butterflies! They were drinking my blood.”
“Oh, well, you didn’t say they were vampire butterflies.”
She set the empty glass on the nightstand. “It was very Stephen King. Her skin itched at the memory. “There were thousands of them. They were suffocating me.”
“Once I watched a documentary on vampire bats and they mentioned a butterfly that actually drinks the blood of animals. Sort of like a mosquito moth.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. Look it up.”
Calling his bluff, she snatched her phone out of her pocket. “I will.” After a quick search of blood sucking butterflies, she gasped. “What the fuck?”
“Told you.”
She thumbed through the images, each one exactly like her dream. She must have skimmed over a picture of them on Instagram or something, because there was no way her subconscious could make such a thing up with such remarkable accuracy.
Her skin itched as if lined with ants. “I have to go.”
“It’s five in the morning.”
“I have class in three hours. I need to go over my notes.” And take a shower.
He followed her as she slipped on her shoes and gathered her things. “Do you want to hang out again tonight? We can watch another movie.”
“It depends how much homework I have.” She grabbed her purse and unlocked the door.
“Wait, I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s fine. Go back to bed.”
Not sure if it was the dream or something else, the last thing she wanted was a kiss goodbye, so she pulled the door shut before he could follow her. It wasn’t her greatest exit, but she just wanted to get home.
