Betty Butter - You should not be afraid to fly

Betty smiled as Butter flapped her tiny, colorful wings around her pot of zinnias. It was as if Butter made them come alive, stopping to gently kiss each of them seated in a floral symphony. When she was done with her ritual she flapped her wings over to the window pane and then did a little knock-knock before flying in.

"Hey," she settled on Betty's nose before going to settle properly in her palm.

"Hey, Butter. You stopped by early" Butter lowered her wings, spreading them almost throughout Betty's palm then lifted her antennas to Betty.

"Yes. I wanted to see if you were getting along with, you know" She tilted her head a bit making Betty smile.

"She's not freaking out but the whole house knows she's angry. I mean, how was it my fault that her oversized, little son already ate into the pig we were going to serve for dinner?"

Butter chuckled.

"It's summer Betty, I think you should come out to the garden, and take a walk to clear your head. You know I hate it whenever you're like this"

Butter tickled her palm causing Betty to explode into laughter.

"I appreciate you Butter, but right now, I got chores to do". She walked over to the window pane to release her back into the world of botanical bliss but Butter stopped her.

"Betty, your mother wanted you to be happy. She made me understand that and she's going to be really unhappy if she finds out you're being mistreated by another woman. Leave while you can."

With that, she lifted her wings into a flap and waltzed out.

Betty sat back to stare at the window. Her mother was a good woman but the community couldn't deal with the fact she was special. What she needed was some understanding and care, that she could change the world if they gave her a chance, but instead, they hung her from a stake and set it ablaze like she was a criminal. Her father lost the courage to talk to her since then, only sending his messages through his servants. Betty was literally alone.

Two years later, her father was wedded again to one of the meanest people Betty had met and that was when Butter came around.

They met at the garden where she had been taking in the scented scenery, running her fingers along bright-colored petals, careful not to prick a finger on any thorn. It was in this state of despair that Betty heard her.

She had been flapping softly, stopping by every single bloom to say "hi" and ask how they were doing for the day. Betty opened her mouth in shock. She rubbed at her ears persistently to see if she was hearing things but even after that, Betty could still hear her cooing softly as she flew around, only stopping for a minute to nuzzle against some sun-kissed petals that let her have nectar for free.

Betty was still trying to process the whole scenario when Butter swirled around and exclaimed,
"Aha! I could tell someone was following me. Hello Missy, how are you?"

Betty stood petrified. She would have peed in her pants if her stepmother had not called her in that instant.

She stayed away from the garden for three days, only peeking from time to time to see if she could spot a butterfly among the plants, or somewhere closer to the soil, maybe in between the roots. She started looking out to see if the objects in the house would talk to each other but they didn't.

It wasn't until a full week later when she had begun to live normally again, that Butter flew to her window pane. It was then Betty observed that she had a ritual where she went around cooing gently to the plants each morning, making sure they were okay.

With time, Butter came around to speak with her before going on with her ritual at the garden.

Betty once asked if she was a fairy godmother but Butter had laughed and said those things existed only in folktales.
Betty learned almost everything about her mother from Butter. How her mother was a special child who could hear things apart from the ordinary, and do things that weren't termed natural. When the community found out, they killed her. Now Betty was like that too and Butter wanted her to leave.

"You should not be afraid to fly Betty." Butter said on one of those mornings "You know how we insects fly?"

Betty shook her head in the negative.

"When we see the first opportunity to fly, we take it. That's the only code."

Betty looked down at her palm where Butter had tickled, running her fingers lightly over it as if to re-live the sensation. She too wanted to leave, but where to?

Her father's house had been her only home in fourteen years, tending the garden was the only thing she did for fun, it had its way of reminding her of her mom and the memories they shared transplanting seedlings from the nursery and splashing each other from the watering can instead of the plants.

If she left, where would she find a life as peaceful as this? She shook her head, she wasn't going to leave. She was sure Mama would understand that she belonged here, with the enchantment of the garden, drawing her in and giving her succor.

Ps: This is my entry for this week's Creative Gardeners' prompt.