I still remember the day when a hungry caterpillar inched its way across the top of my Creation Book.
My sister Poppy and I were sitting in the shade along the banks of a lazy flowing stream. This was our secret spot. The place we went when we didn’t want our mom to know what we were doing.
We were waking up a sleeping world through the creations of our imagination. We manipulated the power of gods as if it were play putty. We conjured creatures through our partnership with a powerful Magic then bestowed life upon them like overly eager scientists.
We were upsetting a galactic apple cart, the effects of which would be felt far beyond our icon sphere of Red Rainbow Minor. Each little creation added to the building tide. The caterpillar, created by my sister, was yet another drop of water in a building tsunami.
The caterpillar circled the glowing pages as I sketched. It was drawn to the Creation Magic that emanated from the tattered tome. I didn’t know then how often I would think of this caterpillar throughout the years.
I created a branch for it to climb on; here it would molt, revealing what would become the outer layer of its chrysalis. Its metamorphosis into a butterfly would follow.
Poppy could have created a butterfly outright. But there’s a special power in a caterpillar’s transformation that she didn’t want to lose. This is why she created caterpillars for me. Poppy, having a closer connection to the Magic than I, understood concepts it would take me years to grasp.
Early on, I assumed it was who I was that allowed me to create creatures. I didn’t appreciate that it was my willingness to become that truly allowed me my abilities.
My parents taught me to believe in my dreams, but they never allowed me to believe that I could soar without first achieving my wings. I just didn’t realize how scary this alchemy from awkward caterpillar to graceful butterfly could be, or the frustrations it would present along the way.
What kind of butterfly will I have to become to change the universe? I still don’t think I truly know. Perhaps I never will. Perhaps accepting the unknown is one of those things that I must change in myself in order to ultimately reach the stars.
—Jellybean Reds, Creator of Little Creatures