The Creature

Short story of a wounded creature and a bird.

A beautiful winged creature rested at the foot of a cliff, its torn wings spread across the dust-filled ground. The noble creature that had once shone brightly, blinding anyone blessed enough to cross its path, now raced for its breath in the dull light it emitted.

Slowly lifting its mass, it twisted around revealing grief-stricken eyes. The sorrow lodged deep within them could be felt from miles away. Its once proud shoulders hung loosely, worn out by recent blows and ancient times.

It walked slowly, without purpose, until it crossed a large field of ruby roses.  The creature saw but jagged thorns eager to claw at its flesh and drink its blood. Shielding itself from their lethal beauty it walked past them all, pausing only to rid itself of the memories that forever chased it.

A small bird perched itself on a nearby tree, taunting it with a cheerful tune. The creature hissed yearning for none of the merriment it no longer deserved. The bird circled twice, tempting it once again. The creature caved and extended a dark hand for the bird to land.

 The bird hovered over the giant hand without ever touching it and kept its small beady eyes locked on the creature for an eternity. Pleased with what it saw, the bird dropped its most valuable treasure at the center of the creature’s palm and flew out of sight.

The creature stared wide-eyed at the speck of amber light resting in its outstretched hand.  The light began to pulse and imbued the creature’s hand, spreading across its skin like a wild fire about to engulf the world. The creature roared, first in pain but then in delight as it began to heal.

It proudly stretched out its pure white wings and smiled warmly at the sun-drenched sky. It was free. Finally free. No other feeling could compare.

With one strong push, it propelled itself into the heavens, determined never to touch the ground again.

The End

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