The Butterfly and the Stethoscope

I used a prompt proposed by spookymileskane on tumblr. This is my take on it. I may turn this into something bigger but due to some medical issues I cannot spend a lot of time on this.

I’m walking alone to school when I hear my best friend, Amelia, call out my name, “Hey Emma! Wait up!”

            I turn my around and start tapping my foot impatiently, but the smile on my face tells Amelia that I’m only teasing. “Hurry up you slowpoke,” I say, still trying to tease a little.

            “Sorry I woke up late,” she says trying to defend herself.

            “You always wake up late,” I say while rolling my eyes at her.

            She smiles sheepishly then opens her mouth to start her story. She always has an elaborate story about why she was late. They’re usually pretty good too. “Well it’s like this. Like I said I woke up late. Not that late but still later than I should have. So I hurried up to get dressed and all that jazz. My mom had some waffles on the counter for me to eat. So I grabbed the syrup bottle and the plate. When I went to squirt some syrup on them, I accidently squirted the syrup on my jeans,” she finishes, her trademark grin on her face again.

            I snort as I hear this. This girl is always getting herself into sticky situations. All the humor is lost for me though, when she lifts her hand to push her bangs back.

            “Is that what I think it is?” I question her.

            She grins sheepishly again, “Yeah.”

            I roll my eyes again. As good of a person that Amelia is, she has one flaw in my opinion: she falls in love too often. At seventeen, she already has over a dozen tattoos on her body, not counting her own ankle tattoo. Everyone is born with their own ankle tattoo. Just like every person is unique, every tattoo is unique. Usually our tattoos show a personality trait or a favorite hobby. Amelia’s tattoo is a heart filled with little swirls. This new tattoo on her wrist is a paintbrush that has been dipped into blue paint, posed above a small globe.

            “What’s his name?” I ask.

            “Luke,” she answers dreamily, “he’s an artist.”

            “I can tell,” I tell her.

            She looks confused for a second then looks at her wrist. “Oh,” she says with a giggle. Then she starts laughing as I roll my eyes at her again.

            By the time that Amelia has finished laughing, we have arrived at school. School has never been a favorite activity of mine. I’m not a genius, athletic, musical, theatrical, or talented in anything they offer at school. My favorite activities are what I consider loner activities, hiking, being around wildlife, and photography.

            It’s the end of the school year and warm out, so everyone is in shorts and sandals. Everywhere I look I see tattoos. There are a few like me, with only our original ankle tattoos. There are some like Amelia, who are already have over a dozen tattoos. There are the couples who only have the tattoo of their boyfriend or girlfriend. But most have about five tattoos. I almost like looking at people’s tattoos. Each tattoo has a story behind it.

            “Hey who is that?” Amelia asks as we get to our lockers, referring to the new guy across the hall from us.

            I shrug my shoulders as I spin the combination for my locker, “I don’t know. He must be new.” I get out my books and face Amelia once again. “Do you want to go say hello?” I ask, but already knowing the answer.

            “Yeah why don’t we make sure he knows where he is going,” Amelia says, walking over to the guy. “Hey I haven’t seen you before. Have you been in the area long?” she says with a smile on her face.

            The guy smiles back at her before speaking with a distinct southern accent, “Yeah the name’s Levi. Moved here from Tennessee. I would tell you the town but I would guarantee you that you have never heard of it before. And I’ve been the area since last week but this is my first day of school. I didn’t want to start school in the middle of the week.”

            “Yeah I can understand not wanting to start school in the middle of the week. My name is Amelia. My friend over here,” Amelia says, pointing at me, “Is Emma. She’s also from Tennessee.

            “Really?” he asks, with surprise in his voice, “I didn’t expect to meet anybody from my home state way up here.” After he finished his sentence he gives me a strange look, almost like he has seen me before.

            Despite the strange look I was given, I don’t miss a beat,“Yeah, but I moved here when I was little. I was in second grade. I barely remember Tennessee. It’s like I have lived my whole life here in Montana. You will love it here. The winters here are way colder though. I remember that it took me a while to get used to them.

            He laughs, but before he can start his sentence the bell signaling the start of class rings. “Do you know where you are going,” I ask.

            “Nah I was given a tour last week. Then I walked around a couple times to make sure I knew what I was doing. But thanks,” he declines politely. As he turns around I can’t help but stare in shock. On his neck, right above his shirt, are two pale pink butterflies facing each other, antennas touching.

“What is my tattoo doing on someone I don’t even know?” I ask myself.

            When I get home from school I go straight up to my room. The memory of my tattoo on Levi’s neck is still burned in my memory. All day during school I wondered how my tattoo could end up on someone I have never met. Not even identical twins share the same tattoo. There is no logical explanation for this. I think of this for a little while longer until I can feel myself getting extremely jumpy. I grab my book bag that contains my camera and a few hiking supplies and slide on my tennis shoes before going downstairs. “Mom I’m going to the woods to get some pictures. Be back for supper!”

            “Okay!” she says, her voice muffled by something.

            I head out the door and into the woods that is located behind my house. My dad was a nature lover just like I am. Before he was killed in a car accident when I was twelve, he would take me on long hikes through the woods. A creek runs through the woods and there is abundant wildlife. When I started showing interest in photography, he bought me my first camera and showed me how to use it. At first I couldn’t even enter the woods, the grief being too much for me. But one day, I took a short walk, and felt like my dad was right beside me again. Ever since then I walk through the woods whenever I am bothered by something.

            I stop at my favorite tree. It is one of the tallest trees in the woods, behemoth compared to my petite frame. Its branches start low however, making it easy to climb. I climb up its limbs to my branch, a wide, flat branch about eight feet off of the ground. I settle myself down and start to take in my surrounding.

            The creek is close enough that I can hear its gurgling. A pair of squirrels chatter as they go around collecting nuts. I snap a picture of them with my camera, making sure that as few sounds come from the camera as possible so I don’t disturb any of the wildlife. Every once in a while a butterfly or some bees will stop by the flowers. It’s peaceful out here and salubrious to me.

            My silence is disturbed by a set of footsteps. Not many people go into this part of the woods. It’s on the edge of town and there are only a few families that live close. The other side of the woods is where most people go. They made that part into a family area. There’s a park for kids, picnic tables, grills, and wide flat areas that are perfect for games. I actually like that they did what they did with that side of the park, because then I get to be alone most of the time.

            The footsteps get louder as the person impinging on my territory comes into view. I almost gasp when I see the face. Levi. Is he stalking me or something?

            “What are you doing here?” I ask, not putting any sarcasm in my voice. Might as well give the guy a chance.

            “Oh I didn’t know you were here. I live a few minutes from here. The woods remind me of home and I wanted to be by myself for a little bit. I can leave if you want,” Levi says, sounding a little sad. I instantly feel a little bad for him.

            “No you don’t need to. Let me climb down then we can take a walk. I can show you this really awesome view,” I tell him.

            When I am safely on the ground again I smile at him and start walking, “Come on. It’s this way. I promise you’re going to like it.” Levi follows behind closely, neither of us saying much of anything.

            I point out the landmarks as we pass by them. First there is the tree that looks like it is smiling. Then there is a big patch of daisies. It looks like a fairy planted them because the patch is an almost perfect circle. The third is a set of trees that have attenuated over the years. Finally, on the final bend is a tree that was putrefied years ago by some freak storm. A lot of trees were destroyed in that storm.

            My breath catches when we get there. Even though the first time my dad brought me here was when I was nine, the beauty still astounds me every time. We are standing near the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley. In the distance you can see some gorgeous mountains. They are usually shrouded in a fine mist, which just adds to the beauty. After a few seconds I look over at Levi. I smile at the look on his face, he is as awestruck as I was the first time my dad brought me here.

            “Great place isn’t it?” I ask him.

            At the sound of my voice he jumps a little. “Yeah this place is great. How did you know this place was here?” he asks.

            “My dad brought me here when I was little. We went hiking together a lot. This spot was our spot though. Whenever one of us was upset about something we would hike out here, together. Sometimes we would talk, sometimes we would sit in silence,” I explain, feeling a few tears come to my eyes. Even though it has been five years since my dad died, talking about things we used to do together still brings tears to my eyes.

            There is some silence as we take in the beauty. “You were right,” he says, “This place is pretty awesome.”

            “Yeah,” I say before voicing what has been on my mind, “The tattoo on your neck. It’s mine.”

            “Yeah I know. I know you saw that look I gave you earlier. I thought that you looked like someone I used to go to school with when I was little. When you turned around and I saw your ankle tattoo I knew,” he tells me, “When I was in first grade, there was this girl in my class. She was bright and friendly. She loved the forest and was kind to everyone. She was nice even to me, the shy, quiet kid nobody liked. Over the year I found myself liking her more and more, until one day, I felt her tattoo appear on my neck. The next day was the day that she had to quit school because she was moving. I was so heartbroken. I cried for nearly a week.”

            I stare at him, dumbfounded. This seems like a story. People never reunite with their long lost love in real life. Especially not the way this is happening. I shake my head in disbelief.

            “Yeah I couldn’t believe it either. What are the odds? My parents moved here because my dad found a better job in the area. When I saw you at school I thought it couldn’t be real. I always dreamed about being reunited with you but never thought it would actually happen,” he speaks softly.

            I look at him with tears in my eyes, “I can remember you now Levi. I remember feeling sad because no one ever talked to you. I wanted someone to be friends with you,” I tell him.

            “It worked,” Levi says, “I didn’t want to ask earlier, but why did you say this was your spot?”

            Tears come to my eyes again as I say, “My dad was killed by a drunk driver five years ago.”

            “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t know,” he says, with genuine sympathy in his voice, “I know you guys were super close.”

            “Yeah we were. But going here, it reminds me of the good times we had.  I also feel really close to him when I am in these woods. Like he’s right beside me, proud of the person I have become,” despite trying not to cry as I say these words, I let the tears flow.

            Levi looks at me, the wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. My tears are getting on his shirt but he doesn’t seem to care. We sit this way for a while, me crying, him just holding me. Finally the tears stop and he wipes the remaining tears from my face with his thumb.

            We sit there a while longer, even though I am not crying anymore. We talk about the little things, our hopes, dreams, interests, and favorite things.

            “You know what my tattoo is, but what does your tattoo look like,” I ask him, when curiosity finally gets the best of me.

            He takes off his shoe to show me. It’s simple, but I like it. It is also fitting. It’s a stethoscope shaped to look like a heart. His gentle personality and dream job rolled into one. I love it.

            Soon I look up to see the sun getting lower in the sky. “I better go,” I say, “I promised my mom I would be home by supper.”

            “Yeah we should probably get going,” he says as he gets up. He then helps me get off the ground. I feel a slight tingling sensation on my right wrist. I look down to see a simple stethoscope shaped like a heart.

Author's Note

The prompt: Everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo. Every time you fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body (not necessarily soulmates, just who you fall in love with).

I would also like to note that because of this story being an assignment for an English class, there are some vocab words thrown in towards the end. I tried my best to use them correctly but they were difficult to include. Please let me know if you have suggestions on how to better use those words.

Reviews

[Dante Carlisle]

Excellent story, and I enjoyed the premise behind the tattoos. You should look into writing some more stories based upon such an idea, it's an interesting one. Keep writing stories, this one was great!

[Crazycatgirl_10]

Thank you so very much. I am thinking about adding onto this and making it into something more.