Stephen Messer - The Death of Yorik Mortwell

The water garden was quieter now. Yorik listened for a moment to the splashing offish and frogs, and the eternal gurgle of the fountains. Then he trudged off toward the Manor.

As he went, he saw a fluttering near his arm. He looked down to see a butterfly, newly hatched from its chrysalis, its wings still wet and ragged.

“You’re late,” said Yorik. “All the others migrated away already. You’d better hurry after them.”

He tried to shoo it away, but the butterfly didn’t seem interested in moving on.

“All right.” Yorik shrugged. “But you won’t like it here when winter comes.” The butterfly followed him, and he left it alone.

When he reached the Manor, he climbed deftly up the wall toward a high balcony. There he shuffled along the stone balustrade until he found a generous crack. He sat atop it, waiting. The butterfly landed next to him.

The butterfly peered at him with what Yorik felt was a great deal of curiosity.

“The Princess said she would give me a great gift,” explained Yorik. “The ability to choose my own ending. Not many receive this , she said.”

The butterfly flexed its wings, almost entirely dry now.

“So I asked her if I could stay here and be a part of Erde forever. Yes, of course , she said. Is that hard to do? I asked her. No , said the Princess, it’s quite easy. In fact, it requires hardly any magic at all .”

Suddenly a door opened, and from within came Susan and the Matron. Together they went to the balcony and gazed over the vast expanse of Ravenby Estate, which once again throbbed with work and life.

Then Lord Ravenby came through as well. He looked vigorous again, but also rather nervous.

“Well?” he asked Susan. “Of course, you can take the time you need to decide. But it would be my very great honor. In all that happened, you were the only one who didn’t abandon me. You never left. And you need a father, and I need a daughter.…”

“Yes,” said Susan.

“And of course I could never replace your real father, I’m sure,” continued Lord Ravenby anxiously.

“Yes,” said Susan, smiling and turning. “I will be your daughter. Oh! Look!” She pointed to a dandelion growing from a crack in the stone balustrade. A startled-looking butterfly was flapping nearby. “How odd,” she said. “I didn’t notice this before. Who would think a dandelion could grow in such a place?”

“Quite extraordinary,” replied Lord Ravenby, wiping at a tear in his eye.

“Yorik told me a story about dandelions,” Susan said. “He said that the seeds of a dandelion will deliver your dreams to your loved one.”

And she reached out and plucked the dandelion, and blew. And the seeds spread on the wind. They floated down to the water garden, and onto the Tropical Tell, and throughout the aviary glade, and settled even beneath the topiaries. And some of them landed in the little creek, where they drifted on the waters, along the smiling face of Erde.

For all their efforts with this book, my deepest gratitude goes to Miriam Angress, J. J. Johnson, Jennifer Harrod, John Claude Bemis, Jim Thomas, Chelsea Eberly, Jason Gots, Alison Kolani, Jessica Shoffel, Ellice Lee, and Josh and Tracey Adams of Adams Literary. Also to Gris Grimly, for his inspired illustrations; Edward Gorey, whose art was a constant inspiration; and Robert Herrick, for his poem “The Night-piece, To Julia.”

Late at night, through a hidden window, the ghost of STEPHEN MESSERcan be seen typing away in his study, high up in the haunted manor he shares with his wife in Durham, North Carolina. In a past life, Stephen was the author of Windblowne . Visit Stephen online at stephenmesser.com.

GRIS GRIMLYcan best be described as a storyteller. Through his distinctive style and wide selection of media as an author, illustrator, fine artist, sculptor, and filmmaker, he has captivated a variety of loyal collectors. Primarily known for his dark yet humorous children’s books, Gris continues to haunt the imaginations of both young and old. Visit him online at madcreator.com.