For previous editions, go here.

For those who are new, The Butterfly Dress is a story about Flora, a girl trapped in dismal job as a seamstress and dressmaker to her cruel mother. Although she dreams of designing gowns in New York or Paris, she is forced to settle for creating prom dresses for local girls while attending class at the local college. When she receives the chance to design the Coronation Queen’s gown for a local ball, magical things begin to happen. As she dives deeper into the ball’s mysterious past and its handsome prince, it’s a pair of shoes that might lead her to her final destiny.

Step by step, the silver glittering butterflies rose, fluttering up to the garden gates.

“Invitation?”  The security guard glanced at her, then smiled.   His eyes ran over her, appraising.  “Nice dress.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.  He pulled the gate open, his eyes raking in the way the blue silk floated over the cobblestones, the delicate clicking of her heels across the tile.

Her eyes met his, her blush hidden by the silver mask.  She smiled, basking in his returned grin.

She wouldn’t think about how if she removed the mask, he wouldn’t be smiling at all.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter in a white coat, Flora floated into the crowd.  Brushing around the same ladies who she had measured for gowns, the same girls she had outfitted for prom and debutante balls, she let the conversation soak in.

“Have you seen Astrid’s dress?”

“Gorgeous, isn’t it!”

“She’ll win for sure.”

“Does anyone know what the surprise is?”

“Eleanor has been keeping it a secret, of course.”

“I bet it’s cash.”

“I bet it’s jewels.”

“I bet it’s something really crappy, like a t-shirt.”

Flora hid her grin, pressing her lower lip to the glass as she wound through the cattle of suits and gowns.  Suddenly, a screech stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Oh my God!  I can’t believe it.”

Her fingers trembled, golden liquid sloshing over onto her hand.  Slowly, her mask pressed into her face, she turned.

Her mother was standing behind her, her mouth dropped open.  “I can’t believe it!  You look gorgeous!  How did you ever make that dress in such a short amount of time?”

Flora opened her mouth, but her voice was nowhere to be found.  A blur of hot pink, false eyelashes and way too many rhinestones; her mother rushed toward her.

“You’re going to win for sure!” she gushed, her garishly painted mouth spreading out into a rabid grin.  “There’s no way you won’t win the prize in that!”

Flora licked her lips, taking a deep breath.  As she dug for the words to reply, her mother sailed towards her….and past her.  Without a glance in her direction, her mother rushed by her, enfolding a stern-faced Proffessor Skippy in her arms.  “How did you ever come up with the design for that dress?  It’s gorgeous!”

Heather Oak stepped back, and Flora lowered the champagne.   Clutching onto the empty glass so hard her fingers trembled, her eyes burned holes through her silver mask.   Professor Skippy smirked, holding the peacock blue skirt as she twirled around.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”  She preened, running her hands over the bodice.  In the center, white silken cord created a corset up the front and back.  “I suppose you could say my students inspired it.”

Flora swallowed a scream, unable to tear her eyes away from her dress.  Her dress, the dream dress she had spent night after night working on, pouring over, sewing until her hands bled and her fingers ached; now hugged the linear figure of Professor Skippy.   The slashes had been covered with stitching, repaired with silver appliqued butterflies.

“You’ll win,” Heather Oak gushed, threading a fat arm through Professor’s Skippy’s.  “Do you know what the prize is?”

Professor Skippy smirked.  “Eleanor won’t tell anyone, not even Nate.”

“Aren’t he and Astrid a beautiful couple?”  Heather turned, her eyes latching on the stage rising over the gardens.  At a long white table, Nate sat with Astrid at his right, a silver crown perched on his dark curls.

Flora pretended the ache in her chest was heartburn.   Even from here, she could see Nate’s smile, the glow in Astrid’s eyes as she turned her head, golden curls blushing across the shoulders.

“Flora did a wonderful job on the dresses.”  Professor Skippy simpered.  “Where is Flora, by the way?”

Her mother sniffed, clutching closer to the Professor.  “Who cares?  It’s not like I can’t find someone else to sew gowns.”

“Gowns like that?”  Professor Skippy arched an eyebrow, gesturing towards Astrid’s gown.  “I doubt it.  There’s not that many people that can design a gown like that.”

“You can,” Heather Oak smirked, pressing closer.  Professor Skippy drew away, wrinkling her nose.  “Yes,” she murmured, detangling herself from Heather.  “A pity Flora couldn’t be her tonight.”

“A pity she couldn’t see you win.”  Heather fluttered her eyelashes.  “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of students who need some part time work, right, Professor?”

Turning away, Flora murmured her apologies, racing through the crowd before she could hear Professor Skippy’s answer.   It was too much, seeing her dreams both paraded and shattered in a single instant.  Pride and envy knotted through her, curling in her stomach.  Dropping the empty champagne glass on a waiter’s tray, she turned and slammed into a white tux.

“I’m sorry.”  Her heart thudded as she looked up into a pair of blue eyes all too well.  “Forgive my clumsiness.”

“Excuse me,” she whispered.  Lowering her head, she pressed her mask closer to her cheeks, hoping to soothe the flaming redness spreading over them.

“You know, that’s a lovely dress.  And lovely shoes.”  She froze, cringing.  “Do I know you?  I feel as though we’ve met.”

The mask firmly pressed to her skin, she turned and shook her head.  “No,” she lied.

And as the light in Nate Nottingham’s eyes flickered with disappointment, she felt a part of her heart die.  Before tears could spring to her eyes, she turned and ran, holding her skirts up as she rushed through the crowd, darting past tables and waiters and elegant violinists.   She threaded through the gardens, through the trail of gazebos and past the ponds, past the glass gowns and statues.

It wasn’t until she reached the greenhouse she realized she had lost one of the butterfly shoes.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new Sidewalk Dreams tomorrow!

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