The Ladybug

I hung up the damp clothes with the pins on the clothesline. The sun had finally decided to show its shining face, so my mother had given me laundry duty. Horse hooves clomped on the unpaved dirt road, and dust floated in the air. Chickens protested to one another in curt exclamations, and the cows in the pasture added their long and deep voice.

I dried my hands on the front of my olive green dress. An older woman with graying hair grabbed a rag that was hanging over her shoulder and began whipping it in the air as she shouted in a deep and burly voice.

“Gaston, get your bum out here and milk the damn cows, I dunno how many times I’ma have to tell you, boy!”

The so-called Gaston, a boy about the same age as I, busted through the front door of the house. The screens on the windows of the house rustled. 

“I hear you! I hear you!” Gaston said as he scooped up some buckets. He sighed as he sat down on his stool.

The woman shook her head at him and headed into the house where she would probably begin brewing some tea.   

I was standing in our dusty side yard, watching the boy begin to milk the cows. There was no fence between our houses, just grass, and dirt. I was the bolder type of gal, so I began to trudge the distance between the two of us until I came to stand in front of the boy who sat on the stool and looked up at me. He wore boxy linens and a brown leather vest, and his hair was a curly mushroom cap on his head.

“So your name’s Gaston, right?”

“Ah,” he put his hands down on his knees and gave a laugh. “Gah-stone” is how I pronounce it, but really have your way with it.”

He sat there, peering up at me with a dumb smile on his face. I raised my eyebrows at him with an exasperated exhale. He wasn’t getting the message.

“Aren’t you going to ask for mine?”

“Your…?”

“My name, you dimwit!” I erupted.

His smile only grew wider and his eyes only sparkled brighter.

“Well, madam, what’s your name?”

“Sybilla,” I said. The genuinely curious and playful look on his face was difficult not to match.

“Well a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Gaston said.

“Likewise,” I said with a curtsy. I began to walk backward, making my way back towards home.

Seeing this, he put his hand up in a wave and called out.

“Hey! Wait up!”

I stopped walking backward and stood still, facing him. He raised out of the chair with as much effort as an old man. The boy walked over, bare feet flattening the grass into footprints as he walked. We were face to face, and then I was the one peering upwards, looking into his face that was glowing with the sun’s warmth. I cocked my head to the side, waiting for him to say or do anything.

He fiddled his thumbs together. Gaston’s face lit up with a smile

“I just remembered I could show you something quite interesting if you just wait a few minutes.” 

I shrugged. 

And why shouldn’t I go? 

Gaston just kept staring at me. I squinted my eyebrows at him until a look of recognition washed over his face. 

“Oh, I figured you’d want to come to wait back over there with me.” He pointed over his shoulder. He smirked and said, “Plus, I could use a little help milking the cows.”

I found myself sitting beside a cow on the other side of Gaston and his milk bearing friend. Gaston had acquired a loud presentation voice as he explained to me how to milk the things. The blush in my cheeks was sure to be as red as cherries as I pulled on the utters with clumsiness and timidity the boy was sure to laugh at. For my sake, I was lucky the cows were blocking most of his view.

“This ‘interesting’ thing better be worth it, Gaston,” I said after we had been milking the cows for a few minutes. 

“Yes, yes. We’re just about done here.” He stood up and moved the bucket while guiding the cow out of the stable. I stood up and followed suit, the bucket full of milk and heavier to lift than I expected. He reached out to me with his free hand, and I handed him my pale. The significant weight of the milk filled buckets was not evident as Gaston carried one in each hand. He used his back to bump the door to his house open and disappeared inside. 

I was certain he was going to ditch me, and the seconds began to pull on and stretch like taffy. My heart rate began to escalate, but he returned back through the door and out into the day again.

“You ready to go then?” Gaston asked.

“Yes, I suppose, although I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“And that’s exactly the point! Wouldn’t be very exciting if you knew where it was and what it is, now would it?” 

I found myself wanting to punch him, but I couldn’t disagree with his logic. Gaston turned away from our humble shacks we called home and led me towards the green wall of forest bordering our village.

“Haven’t you heard of the stories people tell about the forest?”

Gaston smiled wider. 

“Children stories? Yeah, I’ve heard a few of those. I didn’t know you were still a baby though.”

“I’m not a baby,” I protested. “I just kinda don’t want to die, and I have my doubts.”

“That’s why you have me as your well-versed guide,” Gaston said, offering a light and graceful bow as he walked forward.

I rolled my eyes, but the pounding in my chest continued. We walked toward the towering wave of green and found an entrance. It was a squiggly, plodded dirt path that weaved through the tree trunks. Before we entered the land of shadows and clawing trees, Gaston turned to me with his eyebrows raised and the corner of his lips upturned. Something told me he was very much enjoying my unease. Sighing, I gestured for him to take the lead, and with a giggle, he took up his role as leader. The trees were giant, and I felt like one of the seven dwarves as the darkness wrapped its arms around us. The temperature dipped about 10 degrees with the sunlight blocked out. Gaston continued on, unbothered by the stark difference in setting. Something above my head started a commotion, and I yelped out and fell into a crouching position, shielding my head with my arms.

“It would appear,” Gaston said, “that was a bird.” His eyes twinkled with humor and the urge to beat the boy up resurged.
“Ah, yes. Very funny. You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”

“I do like to think it’s a skill of mine,” Gaston said.

We continued through the graveyard of trees, picking our steps carefully so no root would stumble us as we made our way down the path. 

“Have you heard about the tale of the Wolf?” Gaston asked.

He had taken up a fancy of listening to me squeal at the bone-chilling childhood stories I had heard about the Forest.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard almost all of them,” I said, “and that’s not at all what I want to be thinking about. You know, I could just turn around right now and go home. I don’t really care about your stupid surprise that much anyways.”

I turned to leave, but a hand fell on my shoulder. It turned me around.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry,” Gaston said. “I’ll quit the storytelling. I promise. So will you please not go yet?” 

His puppy eyes were pleading, shimmering in the shards of sunlight. I threw my hands up.

“Ok, fine, fine. Just make it quick now, will ya?”

Gaston took my hand and brought it to meet his lips. 

“Your will is my command,” he said and resumed his trek into the forest. I followed inches behind his heels, threatening to step on his feet if he stopped, not that I would feel all that bad.

The trees gathered closer together and blocked out any light that had managed to make it through the canopy. It seemed the farther we went, the worse it got, but Gaston stopped and threw his hands in the air.

“Aha!” He said. 

The boy dropped into a crouch and began tearing through a pile of leaves, and once those were gone, the dirt beneath them until a pulsating and calming light emanated from the ground. It glowed green like a lime at perfect ripeness. He plucked the thing up. It was a glass draught and inside, neon green liquid splooshed and splashed as he turned the thing left and right, examining it himself. It glowed like a jellyfish.

“So what do you think?” Gaston asked. He seemed very pleased with himself. 

“Well I certainly have never seen anything like it,” I said. Then something hit me. “Did you buy this from a Witch?” I hissed.

He stared at his feet for a second with his brown caterpillar eyebrows furrowed. They inched towards one another. 

“Well,” he said, looking up at me again, “it was more of a ‘get a treat, pay for it later’ kind of deal, but I did acquire it from a ‘witch’ as you so negatively put it.”

I wanted to be angry, but a part of me admired the reckless fearlessness of the boy. 

“It was a pretty good deal, in my opinion. I haven’t had to give her anything or do anything for her as of yet, and I still have this beauty,” he said, shaking the potion for emphasis. I shook my head. 

“Ok, you got it. Can we get out of here now? I really hate it.”

“Leave? If anyone knew I had this I would be publicly beheaded by my family. This is why I’m quite sad I chose to trust you with this. I thought you would have my back more.”

The defeat in his voice was dreadful and it made my skin crawl with guilt.

“Ugh,” I said, closing my eyes tight and trying to take in calm, deep breaths. “Ok. We can follow your crazy rules, but I would like to not spend more time here than necessary.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Gaston said. He winked at me and nudged my shoulder like a playful brother. I snorted at him in return. 

“Well,” Gaston said, “The nice lady told me all I had to do was pour this on a ladybug, and I would soon find my true love.” He spoke in a girly, daydreamy voice.

“I thought it might be fun to test it out with somebody, and since you came up to me, it seemed like destiny, or fate, or whatever. Ya know, something high and mighty. And hey, maybe it’ll work for you too. ”

“If this is the part where you expect me to thank you and feel indebted to you, it’s not happening. But I suppose you’re going to need as much help as you can get in the love category, so I can’t blame you,” I said.

“Haha very funny. I’ve been told I’m quite the lady’s man. By my mom of course, but she’s usually right. And if I don’t get a thank you, at least help me find one of those buggers.”

And so we searched for a ladybug for the five minutes or so. Before that time, it had never crossed my mind to ask where a ladybug would fancy spending its time. My guess was anywhere besides this dark and brooding forest, but it seemed some were ok with the setting since we finally found one. It was next to a tree stump as wide as one of Gaston’s cows and on a rotting branch that lay nestled on the unkempt grass. On this soggy piece of wood was one vibrant, red speck. Our ladybug. Until I laid my eyes on her, I hadn’t thought of the fact we would be murdering this creature, but there was no talking Gaston down his high, and I was curious if this was a real-life witch’s brew or not. 

Crouching like frogs, we huddled around the tiny creature, looming over the bug and casting long shadows like giants. With one twist of the wrist, Gaston pulled out the glass sphere stopper to the draught. A green vapor traveled up the narrow neck of the glass bottle and drooled down the sides. The concoction smelled how it looked with strong notes of citrus and the unmistakable zest and acidity of lime. We remained hunched over with wide eyes and unhinged jaws in silence as Gaston positioned the decanter’s lip over the insect so it would splash and land on the red and black polka-dotted back dead on. We locked eyes and both nodded together. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it around the other side of the elixir so we could pour together. 

The vibrant liquid inside began to drip out of the spout as we tilted the potion out over the lady. When the droplets met the shell of the bug it began to bubble, fizzle, and pop. The same fog that floated out of the bottle when uncorked began to ooze out of the cracks of the ladybug’s exterior, except this time the fog was a bright scarlet color. Tendrils of the smoky haze extended. One towards Gaston and one towards me. Caught up in fascination, I had forgotten I was still crouching. When I tried to move backward away from its reaching fingers, I fell on my bum and scooted away instead. Gaston gasped and dropped the bottle as the smoke found its way towards his nostrils. The remaining brew leaked onto the ground and soaked into the dirt. A fine, emerald mist wafted up like a cobra being charmed. Gaston mimicked my fall as he too was flung to the ground by his sudden burst of movement while still crouched. He scrambled back until he reached me. The crazy urge to laugh seized me, but I turned to face Gaston and ask if he was ok. Before I expressed my concern, Gaston extended a shaking finger. I followed it with my eyes and saw him point at where the branch was. The red cloud had grown in size and speed. It poured down the log and floated inches above the ground like a graveyard fog. The emerald mist still rose from the ground, and when the blood-red vapor passed through it the colors meshed and turned brown.

Contrary to logic, the ruby smog splayed out like the beam of a flashlight. The two tendrils gained length and squirmed in anticipation of reaching us. We glanced at one another with a mirrored terror in our eyes. My hand was pricked by twigs that dug into my skin as I continued shimmying away. Standing up would take too much time. 

My calculation proved correct as the tendril reached me and began to spiral like a snake up my leg. 

“Get it off! Get it off! Please do something!” I screeched, thrashing my limbs. 

“I would, but I’m a bit busy right now,” Gaston hollered back.

I looked over despite the serpent-like fog that wrapped around my waist and continued climbing higher. Gaston was in the same predicament. The brew’s claw had also made its way to his waist and now his upper abdomen. I was on my own.

I continued my feeble attempts at release, kicking my legs and trying to pry the thing off of me, but my hands just went right through it like a ghost. It also occurred to me that despite my brain yelling at my legs to move, do anything helpful, they were not moving. Instead, a tingling sensation prickled my skin and left me numb and paralyzed everywhere the substance wrapped around me. I threw my hand to the right and found my target before I lost feeling in my arms. I latched onto Gaston’s hand as our bodies froze like stone. I was stuck sitting in a pike position, legs straight out. It was yet to reach my face and seep its way into my nostrils, ears, and mouth, so I was still able to call out to my new found friend, (who should be my enemy), that I found myself about to die with, but he spoke first.

“I’m so sorry, Sybilla,” he said. His voice cracked and wavered, affected by the sobs he suppressed. His genuine distress made me pity him despite the fact this was indeed all his doing. I no longer felt my hands, but I felt myself trying to squeeze his nonetheless. 

“You weren’t to know,” I said, breaking into a smile and maintaining humor I wouldn’t have thought possible considering my impending doom. “It’s not your fault you were born stu-” I started coughing. 

Well, suffocating is more the right word. I could taste the acidic aroma of the fog as it poured into my lungs and mingled with the oxygen I had left. Panicking is the last thing to do when trying to retain as much energy and breath as possible, but I didn’t have to worry about that with my paralyzed body and all. I didn’t have to see Gaston to know the same tragedy was occurring to him as well. Soon I was in a sea of vermilion. That was the last thing I saw.

Laying on the grass in a fetal position beside the branch where the ladybug had sat was a lady wrapped in a crimson silk dress. Black hair cascaded down her back and fanned out on the ground behind her

She stirred and opened her eyes. With her hand, she pushed herself up to kneel and took a look around. The forest was quiet and calm. On the grass next to her was an empty bottle with a long, skinny neck and a spherical base. A circular stopper lay next to it. The woman continued to scan the rest of the ground next to her, furrowing her brow. Fresh footprints had folded the grass and led away from her. Large sections of the grass were also battened down. She stood to go examine the fresh markings, and her dress whispered as she walked and then crouched to get a closer look at the ground. There was nothing shocking, but she smiled at two little flecks of red. They were so cute, a stunning red with perfect black circles on the back of a bug. 

The lady scooped the two ladybugs up and held them eye level. 

“Hello, little guys,” she said. 

The woman smiled and blew them a kiss before she turned around and set them on the branch she had woken up next to.