The Psyche

'It's going to be a hot day. Do I crawl up there? Don't answer me, then.'

'And over here we have the hatchery. As you can see, there are several imagos emerging from their chrysalises. Over there is a Large White, or a Cabbage White, it's a common British butterfly, normally with black spots and tips to the wings. This one's markings are unusual.'

'It looks like a skull.'

'Be careful what you wish for. I always said I wanted to come back as a butterfly. That was before you bashed in my head. Now look at me. What am I supposed to do? Get my revenge by waving my antennae at you?'

'A broken skull. Is it some sort of mutation?'

'I'll remove it to a separate cage once the wings are fully matured. We don't want to introduce sports into our breeding programme. It could be a Granya.'

'I recognise you! Did you enjoy smashing my skull? Did the blood and brains turn you on? You sicko! I'll get you for that!'

'Now, over here, folks, is where we prepare the fruit feeders.'

'That's right! Just move on. Abandon me as if I didn't mean anything. Just like before.'

'Right you little oddity. Let's be having you. I've got just the place for you.'

'Leave me be! You said that last time and look what you did! I ain't gonna let you get away with again. Don't you dare touch me.'

'Keep still you little blighter! The net won't hurt you. Gotcha! Into the specimen jar with you.'

'So? I'm a specimen? Just like last time. Only then I was five foot nothing and as thin as a rake. You picked me off the street and put me in that cellar. For years and years. It did my head in. Until you did.'

'What a little beauty. I've never seen anything like you before. I'll be famous. A new species. Named after me.'

'I hate you. I'm pointing my antennae at you. I'm channelling all my hate at you. Die! Die! Die!'

'Argh!'

'Go on! Slip again!'

'Arghh! Ahhhrjjjj.'

'Serves you right! And you dropped the jar. I'm free! I can fly! Why are you making that noise? Just look at all that blood! It's going everywhere. It's like a fountain. Ha! My prison sliced your jugular. Ironic eh?'

'Dave? Dave! Oh God' Call an ambulance! He's bleeding to death. Oh God!'

'Compress the wound. Get that bloody butterfly out of it.'

'He's gone.'

'Here I am again. Floating with no body. No wings. Nothing. Alone.'

'Where am I? What's happening? Who?'

'Not alone. You're dead Dave.'

'Jo?'

'Josephina. I killed you Dave.'

'I fell... The butterfly...The specimen jar...You couldn't...'

'You're dead Dave. I made you trip. Dave.'

'Granya Josephina? A bloody butterfly?'

'I'm going to be famous, Dave. Granya Josephina Vindix.'

'I don't think so. That's you. There. Stuck to the paramedic's boot.'

'And this is you, here, Dave. On your way to hell.'

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