The Butterfly Box Read Online Free PDF

her lip onto her chin and finally into the box where it seeped into the crystals. ‘How did you get the box, Papa?’ she whispered, as if the sound of her voice would shatter the tenderness of the moment.
    I found it in a village called Puca Pucara. Topahuay’s family had managed to salvage it before she was buried on the mountainside. They brought it down to their village where they kept it for a while until the Spanish came with their weapons and their slaughter. It was then that Topahuay’s mother gave it to Wanchuko, for she had always known what her daughter’s secret heart contained, and told him to leave Peru until it was safe to return. So Wanchuko left
    as he had been told only to return many decades later as an old man. He had never married for he had vowed in his heart to love only Topahuay. He had wandered the world alone, thinking only of her. In dreams, when he was awake as much as when he was asleep, her open face and smiling eyes would come to him and comfort him through his lonely life. When he returned to Pisac he recognized no one. His family had been slaughtered along with Topahuay’s; in death there were no social divides. They had all died together, emperors and servants alike. On the brink of despair he climbed up the same path that Topahuay had walked that fateful day, all those years ago. At the top, to his surprise, he saw a little old woman sitting on the grass, looking out across the kingdom of mountain peaks. She was quite alone. When he approached her he recognized her as Topahuay’s sister, Topaquin. Time had warped her skin and shrunken her bones, just like his. But he knew her and when he came closer, she too recognized him and invited him to join her. There they talked about Topahuay, her short, tragic life and the Spanish armies of destruction who had stamped out their culture and way of life for ever. Wanchuko gave Topaquin the box, telling her that the spirit of Topahuay danced in the light of the crystals and sang with the music of the tiny bells. Then he lay back on the spot where Topahuay’s life had been so cruelly taken from her and died. He, too, crossed the bridge that joins this life to the next. But, he wasn’t alone, for Topahuay was with him and her love was there to guide him so no evil could touch him.
    The box was taken to Puca Pucara and remained there for all that time, handed down from one generation to another. The strange thing is that an old woman gave it to me. She said that it has special powers. She said that I needed it more than she did. So, she wrapped it up and handed it to me. It must be priceless, Fede, like you. So you treasure it, for it was made with love and must be cherished with love.’
    ‘I’ll cherish it for ever, Papa. Thank you,’ she replied, overwhelmed with gratitude and so moved by the story that her lips seemed to lose their colour and turn pale.
     
    Ramon glanced at his watch while his daughter sat transfixed, stroking the butterfly with an unsteady hand. ‘We should go home for lunch,’ he whispered into her ear, stroking the soft skin of her white neck with tender fingers. ‘Where’s Rasta?’ he chuckled, casting his eyes up and down the beach. He stood up and
    stretched before putting his clothes back on again. Federica followed his lead reluctantly. She closed the box and got to her feet. She straightened out the creases in her pretty yellow dress and called for Rasta. Still full of energy he appeared wet and sandy with a ball in his mouth.
    ‘Here, Rasta,’ she said, patting her thighs. He trotted up to her and dropped the ball on the ground. She shook her head. Some poor person would probably want that ball back, she thought, picking it up with a finger and thumb so as not to dirty her hands. She looked around but saw no one. ‘What shall I do with this ball, Papa?’ she asked.
    ‘Oh, I think he can keep it. Poor old Rasta. He doesn’t have anything else to play with and I can’t see anyone looking for it,’ he