The rain pours, steaming up from the concrete drive. Eleonora stands at the blurry window to the mansion, duster in hand. She sweeps it back and forth, her eyes trailing from the window.

“La lluvia brilla como los collares de diamantes alrededor del cuello de la Señorita Carly,” the maid whispers to herself.

She dusts above the rich couple’s bed, shaking her head at the pinned butterflies trapped within a glass frame.

“Ah, odio los lujos de los ricos,” the old lady murmurs, her eyes locking on a particularly blue and delicate butterfly. “¿Lo notarían, si yo lo liberara?”

Her shaky fingers reach for the clasp of the blue butterfly’s cage. She slides it open and reaches inside, hoping to unpin the beauty and bury him outside, when it’s wings suddenly move, the pins flying from the wings of the creature. The maid jumps back before touching it, watching as the butterfly flits through the open window, flying out into the rain.

“Una maldición, esta casa es!” She calls from the bedroom window, watching as the butterfly dives downward in the rain, landing on the hand of a man with an umbrella. She bolts down the stairs, swinging the front door open and running through the rain, her slippers slapping the puddles.

“¡Señor, atrapa esa mariposa! El señor, the buttorfly, catch es, mí maid in el manor!”

The man tilts back the umbrella revealing a rotted, grinning face. The maid shrieks, back petaling into the mansion, falling on her rear as she goes.

“You mean this butterfly?” He asks, releasing the beautiful flying creature. It swirls through the air, landing on the woman’s shoulder. Instantly, she melts into the rain, her frail body decomposing in a matter of seconds. The mushy matter puts out a nasty smell.

“El dead,” the man chuckles, continuing his stroll down the soppy street, the butterfly resting on his pasty pale knuckles.