Winter passed slowly and Charlie lived in a hazy world within his glass confines. During his long stay, he had not eaten or taken care of himself. He began to grow frail and thin. The warm glow was slowly fading. The bottle's walls were becoming cold and uncaring.

     On occasion, Charlie tried to reach the bottle's opening in an attempt to again find the outside world. But now the voice of the bottle was cruel and commanding, "Charlie, you cannot leave!" Weak from hunger and filled with despair, Charlie would slide feebly back into the depths of the bottle. At these times, he would utter quietly to himself, "I could leave if I wanted to, but I would rather stay here."

     The mellow glow was completely gone now and there was nothing special about Charlie any more. His good feelings about himself had gradually been replaced with guilt and hatred. He had become nothing more than a sad, frightened little caterpillar, trapped in a brown bottle.


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