The Contrary Tale Of The Butterfly Girl: From The Peculiar Adventures Of John Loveheart, Esq., Volume 2 (2015) - Plot & Excerpts
I have known him since I was ten years old. We grew up together in England on the Romney Marsh, in houses near to each other, across that eerie, ghost ridden landscape. We used to pretend we were explorers and dig into the earth. We found Roman coins and fragments of pottery, a flint blade and the skull of a sheep. We collected beetles, horned ones: black hairy legs, emerald eyes, deep set like jewels. We stored them in jars and then gave them mock funerals down wells. But after a few years we started to both have a deep fascination for butterflies. It became an addiction. Our fathers gave us butterfly nets for our birthdays and we chased those white marshland moths, the pale blue summer flies and the cabbage-eaters. We chased them as the god of the underworld chased Persephone: unyielding, obsessively. By the time we were eighteen we both had extensive collections and every variety of butterfly in England sat pinned through the heart in our houses.
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