His jaw was dislocated but he didn’t care. The other one couldn’t be hurt with his right uppercut, because he tightened his abs just in time, but the following left hook caught the bastard’s ear. Now, it was the other one’s turn, who stepped to the side, spinned behind him and kicked the back of his knee. The chin hurt, the leg hurt, and for those a slanted smile sat on his face as the released adrenalin fastened his heartbeats. He swung into the dance, creating a kind of steady rhythm between the two.

The butterfly rested on a yarrow. It tasted the sweet nectar with its haustellum, and watched the surrounding mountains, as the peaks got shrouded in fog, feeling the closing rain. It knew it couldn’t be hurt, its yellow wings, which had two parallel black stripes, its swallow-tails growing out of the back pair scared away all the birds. It flew from flower to flower to absorb as much as it can before the rainfall.

Lightnings fired between electrons. At first, they fought a lot but slowly an order was developed, they decided who gets which orbitals or who gets to visit the neighbouring atom. They circulated like this in a constant moving, loose grid. In an instant all particles reached a heightened speed when a heat attack reached the molecule and the bindings were torn. They evaporated.

The sky flashed, thundered, the wind jostling the butterfly which was frantically looking for a hideout. The vapor pressured its wings, now it was flying for its life. It found a temporary home in a bush, under the leaves. It waited for the end of the storm.

Their fists ruptured. The other one was spitting blood, the smell of sweat mixed with the scent of rain, and he didn’t let the other catch his breath, a jab flew, but the other one dodged. His center of gravity got in the wrong place and he stumbled. He was out of time, missed the rhythm.

The storm passed and the butterfly stretched out its wings to look for new flowers. To its biggest surprise it was unable to, something held it back. A raindrop fell between two leaves, wetting the web. The butterfly flailed and rolled about madly, but it was useless, it just got more entangled. Soon, the nemesis appeared, its eight legs vibrating the strings of the web, strumming a last song, before it would take the butterfly’s life.

The other one did not hesitate, he could dance for two beats instead of one, and this was enough time for him to reach into his pocket and open his grandfather’s knife.

A blade gleamed in the street light.

The spider ate the butterfly.