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Marcus101
06-14-2010, 08:18 AM
Hello. I'm very sorry to bother you guys, but I need a little help and I'm not sure where else could I go. I wrote a short tale, but English is not my native language, so any help correcting mistakes would be greatly appreciated.


A dreaming butterfly
Once up a time. In a deep dark forest. A butterfly was sleeping. A butterfly that is yet to be. His warm little cocoon was hanging under the tree. Away from any predatory eyes the butterfly felt safe and calm in his dream. A butterfly that is yet to be. He was dreaming about the wings he will get when he will be born. He was dreaming about the places he will visit when he will be born. He was dreaming about blue sky and many other things. A butterfly that is yet to be. But one day a man was passing by. The man didn't see the butterfly in his cocoon hanging under the tree. The man, that was passing by, grazed little cocoon and it fell to the ground. The man stepped on it and crushed a butterfly that is yet to be. And the man went away without even noticing his act. A butterfly that was yet to be didn't know he just died, so he thought to himself: "Something just happened, it feels different, it must be it, I'm a butterfly now.." So he spread his wings and started flying around. He flew to all those places he was dreaming about. He was flying and flying and flying anywhere and everywhere he could imagine. A butterfly that was yet to be. One day he looked around and thought to himself: "Hmm that's strange. Am I all alone in here? Probably that's what is like to be alive.." You see, a butterfly that was yet to be, never had a life, so he couldn't know what it's like to be alive. So he kept flying and flying around, but with each day of his life, that was never to be, it was getting harder and harder for him to fly. And many many days passed until one day he just couldn't fly any more, until he couldn't lift his wings any more. So he was crawling on the ground around his forest, and crawling and crawling, and it was very hard, and it was getting even harder with each day passing by. And at the end it was so hard that he forgot his dreams, forgot what was he doing there and where did he come from. And all the forest became blurry and gloomy in his eyes. Some time later he even forgot he was a butterfly once. And one day when the butterfly was so tired that he couldn't keep going any more he saw something strange at a distance lying on the ground. He pulled all his strength and pushed forward. He came closer and closer until he could touch that strange little white thing. He looked at it for a while and he recognized it. It was his own crushed cocoon: "I remember now. I'm a butterfly that was yet to be. I understand now. I am dead butterfly that is dreaming life." And the butterfly became free of his dream.

Note: thanks to aravind nair for pointing out few mistakes. If anybody else will notice any more mistakes, please let me know

aravind nair
06-14-2010, 08:59 AM
wow! it's an amazing story! it made me a little sad and got me thinking. great work! now i'm not a native speaker of english either but there are a few minor grammatical errors i might be able to point out. I think the style of writing that you've adopted; with the fragmentary sentences adds to the charm of the tale. Once again, great work!

A dreaming butterfly
Once up a time. In a deep dark forest. A butterfly was sleeping. A butterfly that is yet to be. His warm little cocoon was hanging under the tree. Away from any predatory eyes the butterfly felt safe and calm in his dream. A butterfly that is yet to be. He was dreaming about the wings he will get when he will be born. He was dreaming about the places he will visit when he will be born. He was dreaming about blue sky and many other things. A butterfly that is yet to be. But one day a man was passing by. The man didn't see the butterfly in his cocoon hanging under the tree. The man, that was passing by, grazed little cocoon and it fell to the ground. The man stepped on it and crushed a butterfly that is yet to be. And the man went away without even noticinghis act. A butterfly that was yet to be didn't know he just died, so he thought to himself: "Something just happened, it feels different, it must be it, I'm a butterfly now.." So he spread his wings and started flying around. He flew to all those places he was dreaming about. He was flying and flying and flying anywhere and everywhere he could imagine. A butterfly that was yet to be. One day he looked around and thought to himself: "Hmm that's strange. Am I all alone in here? Probably that's what is like to be alive.." You see, a butterfly that was yet to be, never had a life, so he couldn't know what it's like to be alive. So he kept flying and flying around, but with each day of his life, that was never to be, it was getting harder and harder for him to fly. And many many days (deleted have) passed until one day he just couldn't fly any more, until he couldn't lift his wings any more. So he was crawling on the ground around his forest, and crawling and crawling, and it was very hard, and it was getting even harder with each day passing by. And at the end it was so hard that he forgot his dreams, forgot what was he doing there and where did he come from. And all the forest became blurry and gloomy in his eyes. Some time later he even forgot he was a butterfly once. And one day when the butterfly was so tired that he couldn't keep going any more he saw something strange at a distance lying on the ground. He pulled all his strength and pushed forward. He came closer and closer until he could touch that strange little white thing. He looked at it for a while and he recognized it. It was his own crushed cocoon: "I remember now. I'm a butterfly that was yet to be. I understand now. I (deleted a) am dead butterfly that is dreaming life." And the butterfly became free of his dream.

Marcus101
06-14-2010, 09:16 AM
Thank you very much and I'm glad you liked it.

JBI
06-14-2010, 10:20 AM
Reminds of this:

Once Zhuangzi dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering around, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn't know he was Zhuangzi. Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuangzi. But he didn't know if he was Zhuangzi who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi. Between Zhuangzi and a butterfly there must be some distinction! This is called the Transformation of Things. (2, tr. Burton Watson 1968:49)


But, then again, it is hard to tell any story of butterflies now, without recalling the above quote; Borges said something similar about the use of butterflies as metaphors in poetry.

To be honest though, you can tighten the language significantly - use commas and remove excess verbosity.