Descriptive Setting

 Outside it is sleeting. The sky is a rusty orange color, city lights reflect off the low clouds. The cement is slick and streaks from streetlights and passing cars glint off it.

I head into the large white building behind the house. There is fluorescent light streaming from the door. A girl stands in the entrance, half illuminated half shadow, and smiles invitingly as I pass. I smile back.

Inside it is warm; it is the warmth of hundreds of bodies gyrating together like a single organism. The creature breathes and sighs as one. Its motion is fluid and spiraling. Only upon entering the organism do I once again remember it is a crowd of individuals having a good time.

And with the warmth their bodies generate there is also a smell. It is the smell of sweat, of bodies in motion, of girls and boys, of perfumes and colognes. It is not foul. It is natural and oddly comforting. It floats heavily through the air and settles on everything like a blanket and stirs old memories long forgotten to the fogs of time.

The ceiling is high above us. The walls of the building are undecorated metal painted white. Well, I figure it is white. It is hard to tell in the colored lights. The structure has the feeling of a small hangar or warehouse.

The lights are low. The crowd is in the dark. The doorway has the fluorescent light. A stage against the far wall is bathed in red light. Lasers with intricate designs dance on the walls. I wonder if they are secretly spelling out any subliminal messages like, “Drink Coke” or “Vote Republican.” My eyes can only pick out star and triangular shapes, and those only fleetingly.

My ears start to hurt. The music is so loud it transcends the mere auditory sense to become a truly physical experience. Each drum beat races through my body. The guitars saturate my ears and overflow into my mouth. They taste of metal and spice.

Once I can no longer hear I figure it is a good time to step outside for a second and recuperate. I hope that girl is still in the entrance and will smile at me one more time. And we will attempt to talk, though both deaf. I will get her number and we will have many wild adventures together throughout the years…

Who knows, why not?

Butterflies

by Trevor Parker

I’m hiking along the ridge trail that leads up from Twin Peaks to Black Peak. Twin Peaks are a double peak, shaped like a camel’s humps, that sit on the first foot hills overlooking Salt Lake City. Black Peak is three and a half miles further up this ridge that leads to the main spine of the Wasatch mountains.

Once past Twin Peaks, the sounds of the city quickly fade. The wind roars over the mountains. Nature becomes much more abundant: there are falcons, eagles, slow horny toads, fast spotted lizards, and many insects. It is spring and flowers are in bloom. The hillsides are covered with big yellow blossoms and dark blue flowers. The grass is green. Higher up there is still deep snow clasping to the peaks contrasting with the spring life around me. It is all very beautiful.

A shadow by my foot brings me to a stop. I look down and see that the shadow is actually a very large and very hairy caterpillar scurrying across the trail. It stops suddenly, sensing me. It is unsure of how to continue. I crouch down and stare at it. It is large and fat. It has long spiky black hair tipped with tan. There are a few red markings around its squat head. Two large black eyes, taking up all of the bug’s face, regard me. Then with enough time already lost, the caterpillar rushes around my foot with amazing speed and heads into the rocks and grass to the side of the trail. I follow it, bending over close to the ground and watching its progress.

And it hits me. This fat caterpillar has been eating well, and is in search of another healthy plant to consume. I look over and see a tall flower whose leaves are shredded and eaten. Its beauty already draining from the peddles as the plant’s life ebbs. This little caterpillar and so many like it live off of destroying the beauty around us. This ugly little caterpillar eats the things that make the mountain beautiful. If left unchecked, the caterpillars can bring destruction to whole forests and mountainsides. Luckily I came across it. I will not leave it unchecked.

I stand. Movement catches my eye. I am distracted from my current train of thought as a large yellow and black butterfly bobs in the wind in front of me. It is very large, as big as the palm of my hand. The yellow is vibrant and lays in stripes of varying shape and size on the black wings. It creates an intriguing pattern so articulate and breathe taking, it makes me wonder how nature consistently creates these types of things, and never repeats a pattern. The black of the wings is also captivating. As the butterfly dances through the breeze, the black shifts and sparkles subtly. It is iridescent. I have seen these tiger butterflies countless times and never noticed this before.

The butterfly swoops down onto the devastated flower to my side; respite from the struggle with the wind. I think this butterfly is really beautiful. It adds to the feeling of spring that surrounds me. In fact, as wonderful as the mountains are right now, wouldn’t it be more incredible if these majestic butterflies were everywhere? Swarms of them swirling in the air. They would drink a little from the flowers, but otherwise leave the mountain unharmed. It would be magic.

The butterfly lifts off the flower and flutters on along the ridge. I follow it with my eyes and thank it for visiting me, and then I turn and continue on my hike. But I suddenly remember the caterpillar, and my previous train of thought.

I turn back, and locating the caterpillar, squish it with the heel of my boot. Good riddance to bad rubbish. One less caterpillar to destroy the beauty that surrounds me. I then continue on up the mountain trail hoping to see just one more butterfly…