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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Family
- Published: 05/02/2021
The Butterfly
Born 1948, F, from Epping. Essex, United Kingdom.jpeg)
The Butterfly
By Kristin Dockar
Many, many years ago, when Jack was just 7 years old and his brother John was 5, their mum woke them up one morning and told them they were going to the seaside for the day. Jack and his brother were very excited. This was so unusual because money was limited.
What they didn’t know was that they would never go home, or see their dad, again.
They went to Skegness, a popular holiday place on the Lincolnshire coast. The first part of the day was exciting because they took a bus for the one-hour journey, and neither boy had ever been on a bus before. On arrival, they went down to the beach and played on the sand for most of the day. Jack remembered that Mum had bought them ice cream. This was also rare because there was never enough money for any sort of luxury.
When it was time to go home, Mum told them they were going to have another adventure. They were going to live in a caravan. The site was quite nearby, and they only had to walk a little way before reaching it, their new home.
Any relationship with their father ended on the day that the boys’ mother took them to the seaside.
Mum had already organised work cleaning on the caravan site, and with the money she earned, they just about made it.
Years later, Jack learnt the whole story from his Mum but only after insisting she told him and his brother how they came to leave their dad. Janey had remarried and simply refused to revisit that part of her life.
But as the boys reached adolescence and became ever more curious, Janey told her sons how she had met their dad, Stan, at a fairground. She told them that she had been completely overwhelmed by this muscular, dark haired boy, and against her father’s wishes, they had married. They were both just 18 years old. Janey’s father had disowned her, and life was very hard for the couple. Janey had been brought up in a very wealthy, privileged family and when the money wasn’t there, love seemed to fly out of the window. The couple fell out of love very quickly but struggled on as best they could because of the children.
Strangely, Janey’s father, the boys’ grandfather, paid for Jack to go to a boarding school when his behaviour at school became so bad, he was in danger of being expelled. Jack never knew how this arrangement came into being. Had his mother asked for help or had the grandfather offered?
Now in his late thirties, Jack had long wanted to find his father. His whole life had been one of drifting aimlessly, mainly around London. When he found the advert saying farm workers were needed to pick crops in Lincolnshire, something had stirred him into action. So now he found himself working on this farm and living in a caravan once again because the advert had said ‘accommodation provided’.
Talk about déjà vu. Lincolnshire had always figured in Jack’s life. It seemed to draw him back time and time again. He knew that was where he had started life, and he felt rooted there.
Once Jack started earning from the crop picking, he employed a private detective to help him find his father.
His partner, Gary, had been against Jack embarking on this journey. He didn’t want the man he loved to get hurt. He was twenty years older than Jack and was very aware that he was a father figure. But if Jack’s father was found, Gary knew life could change.
Today, Jack stepped out of the caravan door and surveyed the gloomy, early morning. He looked around the yard where the caravan was parked. It was bleak. Grey, dirty, empty stretches of concrete. This morning the low overhanging clouds seemed almost to meet the land. In the distance he could hear the roar of the waves and knew if he went down to the sea, it would also look grey.
He took out his phone and called Gary.
‘Hi Jack. How are you?’
‘Ok Mate. But what a grim morning. I’m still waiting for the detective to call me with an update’.
‘Do you still think it’s a good idea?’
‘Oh, shut up. Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough to know something of my dad?’
He hung up.
And then out of the corner of his eye he saw a splodge of colour. A butterfly landed on the log pile. Its wings fluttered as if it didn’t know whether to go or stay. It was a foxy red colour with flashes of yellow and spots of blue. Lovely.
But the colours of the butterfly only emphasised the bleakness of his surroundings.
What was he really doing in this miserable place?
As he wandered around the yard his phone rang. It was Bill, the private detective he had hired.
‘Hi Jack. I’ve found him’.
‘Never!’
‘Yes, he ‘s living in Lincoln, quite near the cathedral. He runs an antique shop specialising in golf memorabilia. So, your hunch was right. He never did move far’.
Jack sat down abruptly on the log pile. The butterfly spread its wings and moved further away but remained within viewing distance.
‘Ok, thanks. Can you email the details? I’ll go and see him’.
‘Will do, and I’ll attach my invoice’.
Jack rang off and sat back on the log pile. The butterfly fluttered its wings but stayed there.
How was he going to meet his father? Should he ring first, he now had the number for the shop, or take a chance and just turn up. He sat thinking and realised his heart was thumping. This was a big deal, and as he sat, the butterfly landed on his knee. It was beautiful, Jack thought. It seemed so free.
‘What do you think?’ he asked the butterfly.
The butterfly spread its wings and flew off.
‘Of course. That’s what I need to do. Fly off and take that chance’.
He did his shift in the fields picking celery, and then he called up a cab and went into Lincoln. Walking up Steep Hill, he looked at the familiar quaintness. Cobbled streets, the castle with its square, and towering over it all, the cathedral. He read the address of his father’s shop again, just at the top of Steep Hill. The detective had provided the information that his father was living above the shop.
The shop was closed but Jack rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the door opened.
A man stood there, and Jack could see his exact self in this man.
‘Yes, can I help you?’
‘I’m Jack. Your son’.
Jack watched the colour drain from his father’s face. But he quickly recovered himself’.
‘Come in’ he said briskly.
Jack stepped in. He was standing in an antiques shop.
‘I live upstairs. I’ve been there since your mum walked out’.
Several hours later, after a great deal of stilted conversation, which eased a little over the evening, Jack told his father he had better be going.
‘Are you glad you tracked me down son?’ Stan asked.
‘I’m more puzzled why you never tried to find John and me’.
Stan looked at Jack thoughtfully.
‘You know what son, life is about moving on. Not looking back. I was never one for responsibility’.
Jack looked at his father, and he knew he wouldn’t be coming back. There really was nothing there.
‘That butterfly had the right idea’ thought Jack as he walked back down the hill. ‘Time to fly back to where I was happy’, and with that he took out his phone and called Gary.
‘Hi, I’ll be back on the weekend’.
‘I’m glad Jack’.
‘Do you know what I think I’ll do?’
‘No mate’.
‘I think I’ll get a small tattoo of a butterfly’.
The Butterfly(Kristin Dockar)
The Butterfly
By Kristin Dockar
Many, many years ago, when Jack was just 7 years old and his brother John was 5, their mum woke them up one morning and told them they were going to the seaside for the day. Jack and his brother were very excited. This was so unusual because money was limited.
What they didn’t know was that they would never go home, or see their dad, again.
They went to Skegness, a popular holiday place on the Lincolnshire coast. The first part of the day was exciting because they took a bus for the one-hour journey, and neither boy had ever been on a bus before. On arrival, they went down to the beach and played on the sand for most of the day. Jack remembered that Mum had bought them ice cream. This was also rare because there was never enough money for any sort of luxury.
When it was time to go home, Mum told them they were going to have another adventure. They were going to live in a caravan. The site was quite nearby, and they only had to walk a little way before reaching it, their new home.
Any relationship with their father ended on the day that the boys’ mother took them to the seaside.
Mum had already organised work cleaning on the caravan site, and with the money she earned, they just about made it.
Years later, Jack learnt the whole story from his Mum but only after insisting she told him and his brother how they came to leave their dad. Janey had remarried and simply refused to revisit that part of her life.
But as the boys reached adolescence and became ever more curious, Janey told her sons how she had met their dad, Stan, at a fairground. She told them that she had been completely overwhelmed by this muscular, dark haired boy, and against her father’s wishes, they had married. They were both just 18 years old. Janey’s father had disowned her, and life was very hard for the couple. Janey had been brought up in a very wealthy, privileged family and when the money wasn’t there, love seemed to fly out of the window. The couple fell out of love very quickly but struggled on as best they could because of the children.
Strangely, Janey’s father, the boys’ grandfather, paid for Jack to go to a boarding school when his behaviour at school became so bad, he was in danger of being expelled. Jack never knew how this arrangement came into being. Had his mother asked for help or had the grandfather offered?
Now in his late thirties, Jack had long wanted to find his father. His whole life had been one of drifting aimlessly, mainly around London. When he found the advert saying farm workers were needed to pick crops in Lincolnshire, something had stirred him into action. So now he found himself working on this farm and living in a caravan once again because the advert had said ‘accommodation provided’.
Talk about déjà vu. Lincolnshire had always figured in Jack’s life. It seemed to draw him back time and time again. He knew that was where he had started life, and he felt rooted there.
Once Jack started earning from the crop picking, he employed a private detective to help him find his father.
His partner, Gary, had been against Jack embarking on this journey. He didn’t want the man he loved to get hurt. He was twenty years older than Jack and was very aware that he was a father figure. But if Jack’s father was found, Gary knew life could change.
Today, Jack stepped out of the caravan door and surveyed the gloomy, early morning. He looked around the yard where the caravan was parked. It was bleak. Grey, dirty, empty stretches of concrete. This morning the low overhanging clouds seemed almost to meet the land. In the distance he could hear the roar of the waves and knew if he went down to the sea, it would also look grey.
He took out his phone and called Gary.
‘Hi Jack. How are you?’
‘Ok Mate. But what a grim morning. I’m still waiting for the detective to call me with an update’.
‘Do you still think it’s a good idea?’
‘Oh, shut up. Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough to know something of my dad?’
He hung up.
And then out of the corner of his eye he saw a splodge of colour. A butterfly landed on the log pile. Its wings fluttered as if it didn’t know whether to go or stay. It was a foxy red colour with flashes of yellow and spots of blue. Lovely.
But the colours of the butterfly only emphasised the bleakness of his surroundings.
What was he really doing in this miserable place?
As he wandered around the yard his phone rang. It was Bill, the private detective he had hired.
‘Hi Jack. I’ve found him’.
‘Never!’
‘Yes, he ‘s living in Lincoln, quite near the cathedral. He runs an antique shop specialising in golf memorabilia. So, your hunch was right. He never did move far’.
Jack sat down abruptly on the log pile. The butterfly spread its wings and moved further away but remained within viewing distance.
‘Ok, thanks. Can you email the details? I’ll go and see him’.
‘Will do, and I’ll attach my invoice’.
Jack rang off and sat back on the log pile. The butterfly fluttered its wings but stayed there.
How was he going to meet his father? Should he ring first, he now had the number for the shop, or take a chance and just turn up. He sat thinking and realised his heart was thumping. This was a big deal, and as he sat, the butterfly landed on his knee. It was beautiful, Jack thought. It seemed so free.
‘What do you think?’ he asked the butterfly.
The butterfly spread its wings and flew off.
‘Of course. That’s what I need to do. Fly off and take that chance’.
He did his shift in the fields picking celery, and then he called up a cab and went into Lincoln. Walking up Steep Hill, he looked at the familiar quaintness. Cobbled streets, the castle with its square, and towering over it all, the cathedral. He read the address of his father’s shop again, just at the top of Steep Hill. The detective had provided the information that his father was living above the shop.
The shop was closed but Jack rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the door opened.
A man stood there, and Jack could see his exact self in this man.
‘Yes, can I help you?’
‘I’m Jack. Your son’.
Jack watched the colour drain from his father’s face. But he quickly recovered himself’.
‘Come in’ he said briskly.
Jack stepped in. He was standing in an antiques shop.
‘I live upstairs. I’ve been there since your mum walked out’.
Several hours later, after a great deal of stilted conversation, which eased a little over the evening, Jack told his father he had better be going.
‘Are you glad you tracked me down son?’ Stan asked.
‘I’m more puzzled why you never tried to find John and me’.
Stan looked at Jack thoughtfully.
‘You know what son, life is about moving on. Not looking back. I was never one for responsibility’.
Jack looked at his father, and he knew he wouldn’t be coming back. There really was nothing there.
‘That butterfly had the right idea’ thought Jack as he walked back down the hill. ‘Time to fly back to where I was happy’, and with that he took out his phone and called Gary.
‘Hi, I’ll be back on the weekend’.
‘I’m glad Jack’.
‘Do you know what I think I’ll do?’
‘No mate’.
‘I think I’ll get a small tattoo of a butterfly’.
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Valerie Allen
12/17/2023The need to know, provides the motivation to move on. Knowledge gives us the opportunity to make the next decision. This was a well-written story based on that theme and a good lesson for all of us. Thanks for this insight ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Shirley Smothers
05/08/2021Great story. A little sad but much reality. Loved the Butterfly metaphor. Congratulations on SHORT STORY STAR OF THE DAY!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
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Kristin Dockar
05/08/2021Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yes, it is sad but I think he was going to be more at peace once he'd met his father!!
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Stephanie Egbert
05/08/2021Kristin, congratulations on being a Story Star! I enjoyed your story. It touched base to real searching for answers in ones life. I loved the butterfly part and the ending. Well done!!
Always, Steph
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Kristin Dockar
05/08/2021Thank you. I enjoyed writing this one. I know Lincoln very well, the old part is very atmospheric, and the story was partly based on a true story.
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COMMENTS (4)