Chasing Rainbows

Charles hadn't talked to his father since his mother died when he was 17.
He'd picked up the phone many times intending to break the silence, but knew he'd never answer. Once he'd even trudged up the long gravel driveway to his father's sprawling estate, only to turn back at the last moment.

His father had spent most of his life when he wasn't studying in some remote part of the world, as a Professor of Natural Science at Cambridge. Charles barely saw him, let alone talk to him. Even when they lived under the same roof he wished that he would pay him the same attention as he did to the beloved Moths and Butterflies that decorated his study, pinned spread eagled inside glass exhibits.
Instead he would look baffled by the fact there was no text book at hand to explain the workings of this child in front of him and turn back to his studies.

Charles enjoyed his father's success by spending his childhood climbing trees in the surrounding woodlands and playing amongst the meadows and streams within their estate, understanding the luxury it afforded him. He learnt to accept his lack of input, trading affection for carefree pursuit.

When his Mother's Cancer finally squeezed the last drops of life out of her, he felt like an orphan. For now he had no parents, his father had never really existed. Just a ghostly presence that he would hear shuffling around behind closed doors or brief sightings and interactions in the maze of corridors. Only to disappear as soon as he saw him.

His father was an atheist. Although he would never call himself such, as he would claim that 'Just because he didn't drink Port, he didn't need a label attached to him to confirm it'.
He referred to all false wonder, new age or religious, as 'Chasing Rainbows'. Appalled by peoples want for magical explanation when the facts were right in front of them.
His lack of faith removed any form of human emotion from him too, explaining away all human traits as mere chemical reactions. Love could be synthesised in a Petri dish.
When Charles had needed him the most, to help him grieve, he had been met with the same cold pragmatism that he governed his life with, just blunt acceptance as if his mother was a failed experiment.

That was when he discovered God, filling the void in his life, giving him guidance, comfort and answers that his father had never given him. It built a brick wall between them that could never be knocked down.

On a cold October morning Charles left his family home for the last time.
He often wondered whether his father knew that he had gone.

According to the coroners report his Father had died of an Intracranial solid neoplasm, almost as if he had stipulated the non use of the term Brain Tumour, which brought his whirring mind to a halt suddenly in his sleep.
This had come attached to the last will and testament leaving everything in his estate to his next of kin, namely Charles.
Even in death he remained aloof. No mention of his name, just next of kin. The only acknowledgement of him came in an envelope with a note inside that simply read,
Charles. Exhibit number 156. The End of the Rainbow. With an accompanying key.

Once more, making his way up the gravel driveway he pondered over the cryptic death note. It was obviously a reference to his extensive butterfly collection, but the rainbow reference had him puzzled. Probably just a last dig at his sons faith.
The house hadn't changed since he left 15 years ago. The same musty smell of old oak and leather and the constant tick tock of the Grandfather clock standing on guard in the library.

Golden triangles of light cut through the darkness of the old house, sending up waves of dust, glittering in the sunlight as he climbed the central staircase leading to the first floor and his father's study.

Even though he was dead, he still felt uneasy being in his private quarters. The stern shout of 'Get out boy, can't you see I'm busy!' echoed in his memory.
Floor to ceiling bookcases towered above the chaos below of papers and slides strewn across work benches and the red leather bound desk that he had sat at for the last 50 years.
On the rare occasions that Charles had ventured in here, either to take up supper, or to run errands, he thought that if you looked inside his fathers mind his study would be a mirror image, a jumble of information and facts with a liberal sprinkling of dust.

To the right of the desk he could see the sturdy panelled door that led to his treasured collections. Pushing it open, the wall mounted glass cabinets reflected the dead butterflies on display inside them making them look like tiny flags of the world. Their colours still as vibrant now as they day they were placed there. They were unique in the fact that they were more beautiful dead than alive, being too quick to observe properly. Now their wings were stretched out for eternity, all the intricate detail and colour frozen in time.

He noticed the labels under each specimen stating name, origin and reference number.From common Cabbage Whites and Fritillaries to Giant African Swallowtails and Monarchs, the display was breathtaking. Scoffing at his fathers legacy, he wondered how he could ever have believed such glorious beauty could be created at random. If there was ever proof needed of Gods power, here it was in front of him.

The exhibits ended with an Eyed Hawk Moth, its two bright blue eye shaped markings staring back at him through the glass, underneath read Exhibit 155.
Charles looked back through the cabinets once more in case of the unlikely event of his father incorrectly placing it. They stopped at 155. So, one last laugh at his sons expense he thought.

He looked towards another smaller door, probably a store room, turning the handle he discovered it was locked. Removing the key from the envelope his father had left him, he turned it in the lock and stepped into the dark room. Flicking at the light switch to no avail, Charles went back to the study to find a candle and some matches.

The room lit up gradually under the candle light, empty except for a large glass tank on a workbench in the corner. He could make out iron sidings and padlocks on either side of it, but couldn't make out its contents.

As he walked closer he was aware of a tiny buzzing in his ears like tinnitus and strange phosphorus lights that now danced around inside the glass box.
Tiny balls of light in violet, yellow and blue circled around inside, then darting for the side the glass, attracted to the candle light, maybe twenty or so.

Just fireflies, why the big mystery? he thought. Charles positioned a large plate sized magnifying glass attached to the tank over the top to take a closer look.
These creatures were fast, he could make out the wings and an unusual shaped body and long antennae as they shot past his line of vision. He held the candle closer to tempt them into coming nearer. One of them left the multi coloured cloud of the group and settled against the glass.

Charles leapt back from the box, as if hit by an electrical current, almost dropping the candle. His heart in his throat, he steadied himself against the desk in shock. Setting the candle beside the glass he looked again.
Two gossamer wings gently pulsed, giving out flashes of ambient light attached to a perfectly formed human body, no sexual organs, just a clear translucent skin that radiated a warm glow of light.
The head was hairless, no features except for 2 tiny black points for eyes. It hung in the air for a few more seconds then joined the others, blurring out of vision.

Feeling the urge to vomit, he held his mouth and turned away. Reality removed from his mind, he couldn't focus or process the events taking place.
Hurriedly turning to leave, Charles noticed another envelope pinned to the back of the door. With a shaking hand he pulled it away, left the room and shut the door, locking it as he went. Inside was a hand written letter.

Charles,
If you are reading this, my fears had some grounding and i am dead. I have not been well for a while. The headaches have been getting worse over the past months and I knew it wouldn't be long.
We do not have the time to tread over my mistakes as a Father, but trust in me, I loved you. I just didn't know how to show it. Although I cannot make up for my lack of parenting, I hope my estate will serve you well in the coming years. Do with it what you wish.

By now I imagine you are in a state of disbelief having witnessed exhibit 156, as I have been since discovering them 10 years ago. My life has been taken over by these creatures, in attempting to place them in a biological category. They have no structure, they exist purely from an immeasurable light source, and can form and reform at will. They hold no bearing to physical or chemical laws. They are immune to all earthly influence, except manmade light, which appears to kill them instantly.
You can read my extensive research that I have left under the cabinet they are kept in, but all of it useless, they are without definition.

As im sure you can understand Charles, the ramifications of going public with this discovery would be catastrophic for the scientific world. Science needs reason, without it we have no leverage for all we have discovered. There are dimensions beyond our comprehension that defy not only what I hold dear, but you also in your faith.

We all chase rainbows, some of us marvel at this universes natural beauty upon seeing them, and some as the making of a divine an supreme creator. You and I son have discovered the end of it. The end of what we can explain, either scientifically or religiously. When all reason is gone, mankind turns to faith, what we have here goes beyond both.

Next to their enclosure you will find a light switch, which connects to 10 halogen bulbs directly above them. I'm sorry to leave you with this burden Charles, but I trust you will use the courage I know you have and the intuition that I have struggled to find, to ultimately conclude the only unsolvable problem I've ever encountered.

With the greatest respect and posthumous regret, your Father.

Hours past while Charles sat at his fathers desk, trying to find explanation or sense from the afternoons events. Slowly he walked to the door, unlocked it and entered once more. Finding his way to the light switch his father had mentioned, finger and thumb on the switch, he closed his eyes and searched for guidance. The room illuminated by the hazy glow from the glass enclosure as the creatures blurred into one inside.

He flipped the switch and the darkness exploded into blinding light. In a second the glass case was empty, all trace of these magical creatures gone.

A single tear burnt down his cheek as he dropped to his knees and prayed.