Colombina

You never believed in gods, mysticism, or anything like that, but your parents were obsessed with worshiping God. They made you pray every day, every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every weekend, they dragged you to church. You hated them. You hated God. You hated everyone. Except her.

You met when you sneaked off into the forest: she stood in the middle, singing a lullaby. Enchanted, you didn't even notice how close you'd gotten. That's how your acquaintance began. Columbine. Now you prayed to that name in secret from your parents, ready to fall to your knees at her mere word. But she always remained silent and never spoke of herself.

This irritated you. So much so that one day, on another walk in the woods, you couldn't stand it any longer, stopping at the spot where you met and looking sternly at her:

— Who are you?! You never talk about yourself! And this "hairpin" in the shape of vile angel wings... who are you?!

She didn't even look at you or react in any way, but a butterfly flew towards her. Red. Like blood. She was silent for a long time, and then began to sing a lullaby in a quiet voice.