Toni Traschitzker

The race of the butterflies

"Attention!"

Young butterflies were fridgety standing in a long line – none of them older than three days. They all were feverish waiting for the first high spot of their still short lives – the race to the house of the butterflies!

The house of the butterflies was a wooden arbour at the bottom of a hill – under its sunsided window there was a huge pot with wonderfully blooming flowers just at the time of the race. This pot was the aim of the race.

"Ready!"

Farfarollo, one of the old butterflies who had to care for an exact start of the race was stretching his tiny pistol high and "go" – the race started. A huge swarm rose into the air and only Farfarollo stayed on the ground.

Alone?

Woops! There was a little yellow butterfly that had fallen on the ground beside him. It was Goffolino – who else! This clumsy oaf, who was a brimstone butterfly, had not even been able to get up in the air at the test flight before the race. And now someone seemed to have pushed him off intentionally or not.

He tried to pull himself up but instead of following the others quickly he stopped and started crying.

"Come on, start flying!" Farfarollo told him angrily.

"I'm not able to" the little one answered.

"So use your feet!" the old one ordered.

"I'm not able to! I'm not able to do anything at all!" Goffolino was moaning. He fell down in front of Farfarollo and bleaded, "There's no use! Shoot me dead!"

"What are you thinking? Live your life! What have you got it for? Come on, go!" Farfarollo said. He pushed the clumsy oaf so that he stumbled away.

The other butterflies were already flying high in the air. They were getting on slowly because they tried to push away each other. They were so far away nevertheless.

Goffolino – who didn't dare to turn round because of being afraid of the old Farfarollo – staggered foreward half flying half stumbling across furrows and hollows. Every time he was looking up he noticed that the lead of his fellows had become larger. A strong wind had come up too which pressed the weak butterfly down again and again. There was really no use ...

"Help! Help!" a thin voice suddenly cried. Goffolino discovered a ladybird which had been blown down from a bellflower by the wind.

"I've no time!" Goffolino panted. But when he saw the ladybird helplessly on its back he couldn't help running to it. He grapped it and – hurrah! – the beetle turned over on its feet again. "Many thanks. Thousand thanks!" it moaned.

"It doesn't matter. I have to go on!" Goffolino replied. He didn't care that the ladybird was calling after him, "I'll pray for you!"

The lead of the other butterflies had become larger again. Bruno the reddish brown one who had already been the fastest in the test flight was leading the group of butterflies. He would certainly win ...

"Help!" someone was crying.

Goffolino stopped again. He looked around and thick saw a cockchafer, which had been shaken off a bush by the wind. The pitful beetle was lying backwards in the grass and wasn't able to get on its feet again. Goffolino hurried to it, grapped again – but this time it wasn't as easy as before – it didn't work at all. Goffolino wanted to give up and he wanted to hurry on.

"Wait", the cockchafer cried. "Take this little branch and use it as a lever. The storm had torn it down."

Goffolino tried. He wedged the lever under the back of the thick cockchafer and started to push and to pull. The body of the beetle was staggering to and fro – and finally it fell on the right side!

"I have to hurry on now!" Goffolino panted.

"I'll pray for you!" the cockchafer cried after him.

Pray? What for? Reddish brown Bruno and his fellows had enlarged their lead again. They could have been much farther if they had flown straight ahead. But they had soared up higher. Goffolino again and again looked dispairingly up to them again, and he nearly had fallen into a large puddle.

"Help!"

Who was crying again?

It was a bee. A gust of wind had slinged it backwards into the puddle. The animal was wriggling frightened with its legs and didn't know what to do. Though the wind was driving it to the edge of the puddle, it couldn't get out without help. All wriggling was in vain. Goffo­lino stopped helplessly.

"Grap a blade of grass and bow it down to me!" the bee panted.

Goffolino did so. The bee grapped the blade of grass and got out. "What can I do for you?" it asked Goffolino.

"I know!" he said quickly. "Get me to the house of butterflies!"

The bee looked at him sadly and replied, "I'm not able to, I'm fully exhausted. By the way you would really be too heavy for me anyway. But ... I'll pray for you. Good luck!" It shook off the water, swung its wings and – buzz buzz buzz – it had already hummed away.

Goffolino looked after it disappointedly. Behind a big oak he had already discovered the house of the butterflies. Bruno and his fellows were flying straight towards it. Only a wonder could help. But which one?

Behind the mountains dark clouds were swelling. The wind had become a storm. On the ground bushes and trees weakened its power. But high up in the air the strom had to be awful! Yes, it could blow Bruno and his fellows up there into the wrong direction. It could even kill them! And these dark clouds – if there suddenly was a flash of lightning ...

Goffolino stopped horrified. He fell on his knees crying, "Good God, let all of them get to the house of butterflies safely! Let them just be faster than me, but don't let happen anything to them up there!" This way he was praying and that the Lord should hear his prayer he stayed on his knees for a while. Getting on his feet again he saw that he couldn't catch up the others anymore, they had nearly won. Sighing he got up and stumbled on. He didn't try to fly any more. He remembered too that he had to cross the brook which was falling over a rock as a waterfall above the house of butterflies. How could he manage this obstacle with his poor ability of flying?

The riverbed was dry except an inconspicuous rivulet. Goffolino was astonished. He climbed along the brook and saw where the water had been: There was a huge lake which had been built up by a mixture of broken tree trunks, branches and mud. There had obviously been a thunderstorm in the mountains the peaks of which were in dark clouds. The lake was pressing powerfully against the artificial barrier and then suddenly a terrible thought flashed through Goffolino's head: If the dyke broke, a lot of water would fall down the valley – exactly towards the house of butterflies. The young butterflies that had settled down on the sunny side of the house near the flower pot were not able to see the threatning danger!

"Help! Help!" Goffolino was crying like mad stumbling down the riverbed. He moved his tired feet as fast as he was able to and flapped his wings with all his might. "Help!"

Reddish brown Bruno heard the crying first. He looked round the corner, opened his eyes widely an shouted, "Look! Goffolino! He can fly! Ha ha!" The others looked round the corner too and laughed.

"Go away! The water is coming!" Goffolino cried. He didn't notice that he was floating three feet above the ground. "Hurry up!"

At the same moment it began to crack and to crunch at the slope, then it rushed, hissed and rumbled so that the ground was trembling.

"Go away! Go away quickly!" Bruno bellowed to his fellows and everyone was fluttering with its wings being scared to death behind Goffolino, who showed them the way out. The wooden house was shattered crunching behind them by the flood of water. The butterflies got off with no more than a fright. Goffolino the clumsy oaf had saved their lives – four sincere prayers had been heard by the Lord.