There are very few things in this world that scare me. In fact, I can only name two; werewolves...and butterflies. No laughing.
I write about ghosts and demons and things that lurk in the corners, but have no qualms about wandering around in a graveyard at night. I've worked with lions, tigers, and primates, all of which would easily rip your arm off. I never thought twice about it. But butterflies? They freak me out.
Butterflies are the spazzes of the insect world. You never know which way they're going to fly. They lie in waiting, looking perfectly beautiful and innocent. That's their grand master plan. They rope you in with their beauty and "innocence" only to burst forth like aliens the moment they're disturbed. And God only knows what they have in mind. They could just flapper on by and do nothing...or they could eat your face.
My daughters adore these creatures. When they were young, they would beg me to take them to a Butterfly House of Doom, on the oft chance that one of these pesky little creepers would land on their finger. But alas, it was never meant to be. Invariably, every single freaking butterfly would make a direct beeline for my head. It got to a point where I'd break into a sweat as soon as we stepped through the door.
And butterflies can sense fear you know.
Once I hit my 40's, I decided to try and figure out a way to get over my fear of butterflies. I belonged to a photography site where I would see hundreds of photos of these monstrous creatures. Close-ups, macros; more of the anatomy of a butterfly than you'd ever want to see. A part of me was horrified, but another part of me was a bit jealous. I decided to make it my mission to capture the image of a butterfly, myself.
The camera was my shield.
What I've posted above was my first picture. I'm quite proud of it.
Here are several more. Needless to say, nobody knew I broke into a sweat and felt the sting of panicked tears as I snapped these photos.
Or heard threats the butterflies whispered to me as I slowly backed away.
