My Kingdom for a Blue Butterfly

Once upon a time, oh so long ago, in a land far away, there lived a King who everyone thought was crazy.  "My kingdom for a blue butterfly," he always said, but no one knew what he meant. They didn't think he was crazy as in Wacko! Wacko! but crazy because why would anyone want to give away their kingdom for a butterfly?

The King was a funny looking dude, but because he was so important and ruled the kingdom, no one cared much about his odd looks.  He was King after all and single.  All the maidens near and far wanted to be chosen by him. They wanted to become his Queen so they would be important, too. Unattractive could be overlooked for riches and fame.

Some of the not-very-nice people in the village closest to his castle called the King a worm.  He did kind of resemble a worm, but a lot of people look like an animal or bird or insect. The baker looked just like his poodle, down to his curly white hair, long floppy ears and button nose. The town crier was often mistaken for a screaming bald eagle with long spindly legs, the blacksmith looked like a black bear in deerskin breeches, the Crawley kids like dirty monkeys, and then there was Mrs. Flagglenose who walked like a duck but looked like a horse.  When they all walked down the cobblestone street together, everyone in the village came out of their houses and lined the streets, eager to see the circus.

Of all the kings who ruled the kingdom from the beginning of time, this King was the kindest, nicest, most generous and honorable. He believed in treating everyone with respect, regardless of their station in life. The men who rolled the one-thousand pound rocks up the hill to add a wing onto the castle and the King in the next kingdom over were all treated the same.  Everyone was valuable. He loved his life, he said, but there was a void, an emptiness that he desired to fill. He wanted a mate, someone to share his days and nights. "My kingdom for a blue butterfly," he would say and all the people in the village scratched their heads. "What does that mean?" they wondered.

Then one day the beloved King disappeared, and everyone worried and fretted and worried and fretted.  Meanwhile, just down the road a piece in a small, rickety shack, there was another call for alarm.  A maiden had gone missing. "Oh, don't be too concerned," everyone except family said. "That maiden is a nobody, not special, unattractive even. Kind of looks like a worm." So the village people returned their focus to the missing King.

Time passed. Days. Weeks, and still the King hadn't returned.  His crown was passed on to a distant cousin, and the days of nice and kind ended with the corruptness of power. The importance of the new King's subjects was now determined by their wealth and rank and beauty and so life went on.

It was on a Friday, I think. Or was it Saturday? I don't know. It's my memory. Not so good anymore and, besides, I wasn't there. I just heard the story from someone who knew someone who knew someone who was. The sky was brilliant blue. Not a cloud anywhere. It was an incredible sight, I'm told. Out of the western sky flew a stunningly beautiful blue butterfly and a dozen or more smaller box butterflies--box butterflies are extremely rare; most people live their entire lives without seeing one--who wore tiny yellow scarves that flowed in the wind behind them.  Then out of nowhere another large butterfly appeared and joined the first. As if by cue, they all dipped their wings at the very same time and flew away, never to be seen again.

Rumor has it that the butterflies were actually the King and the missing maiden from down the road. Their transformation, or metamorphosis, from what some people called "ugly worms" to beautiful butterflies has been part of the village's folklore for a very, very long time. But I know for a fact (I have my sources) that the story is, without one single itty bitty doubt, true.