The Bird

The Bird

A Story by BAlanMorgan
"

A nonfiction narrative that I made while I was sick this week, with salmonella. Being sick made me do a lot of thinking, while lying in bed alone for hours on end.

"

     I held it in my hands. The bird was dead.

     I had never seen something so small, but so perfect--he just stepped on it. That kid's boot came down faster than lightning can strike, onto this, before it could take flight (no pun intended).

     Wait it moved! It wasn't dead. I saw a twitch of life inside this little thing. I ran to a restroom for some water, and began to rub the blood off. I could see the bone coming from it's tender little ribs. It was such a subtle thing, one in a million, but it was fleeting away.

     What the hell is that black thing on my arm, and it's moving so fast. There were dozens on my hand. Why is the bird's wound moving so much, like a blur in a photograph? Oh My God it's covered in ants. They got to the bird before I did.

     Drenching it in water, a river of black ebbed and flowed into the drain, like a stream of corruption. I was more pissed at the ants for jumpin' its bones than I was at the fat little kid that stomped on it. Finally just a little bit of movement in its eyes. Then a perfect little squeak that faded into an ugly sound of a half squeak, like a bell stuffed with handkerchiefs.

     Buddy drove us to the vet. The doors were automatic, but definitely not on my side--couldn't get in. An old witch came out. Who cares. The vet was able to save it. Weeks went by, the bird would never fly again, but she became an office pet, one cherished by everyone in it.

     I went back a month after school started which was longer than I anticipated waiting to visit her. It had been another since I brought the little twirp in.

     "Where's Penny?" I asked the office attendant.

     "Oh, you must be the one that saved her... she's dead."

     "How?"

     "That lady that just walked out, her cat got out during an exam and we found it too late." She had no empathy. "Sorry."

     Last week I saw a little nest of birds chirping for food. Their mom was flat on the floor. I finished my walk then had duck for dinner. It was good.


© 2015 BAlanMorgan



Author's Note

BAlanMorgan
I want you all to remember something that changed your perspectives. That event that hardened you to the world, or softened you up to it...

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Featured Review

Ah yes, empathy is both learned and unlearned. This is a short and sweet representation of that process. It does not need to be romanticized.
For me, I had to learn empathy again during my high school years. I was at this stage where people outside of my immediate family of four did not matter to me in the least. I wouldn't purposely hurt anyone, but I wasn't too kind either. Consequences of my words and actions weren't even a thought until I remembered how much affect words could have. Honesty is like communism. It looks great on paper, awesome in theory and should work for everyone. But once it's implemented, you notice how much everything begins to unravel. It is not for everyone. You realize that you can not have only honesty, but sympathy, thoughtfulness....

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

This is a great narrative :)

Posted 2 Years Ago


Perspective is a powerful thing. I thought it was clever and witty. Irony is the biggest killer. I think you can make it longer, regardless I really enjoyed the story.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

The story was a little hard to follow. Pacing was a little choppy. A thorough rewrite would do wonders to this piece.

Posted 2 Years Ago


it's so sad. why did the birdie have to die? isssss sad. but I liked the story. it was good

Posted 2 Years Ago


Ah yes, empathy is both learned and unlearned. This is a short and sweet representation of that process. It does not need to be romanticized.
For me, I had to learn empathy again during my high school years. I was at this stage where people outside of my immediate family of four did not matter to me in the least. I wouldn't purposely hurt anyone, but I wasn't too kind either. Consequences of my words and actions weren't even a thought until I remembered how much affect words could have. Honesty is like communism. It looks great on paper, awesome in theory and should work for everyone. But once it's implemented, you notice how much everything begins to unravel. It is not for everyone. You realize that you can not have only honesty, but sympathy, thoughtfulness....

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Don't take no offense. I got the over all theme and that strange thing we call Empathy. But you sort of jumped around a bit, there were moments that this could have been stretched that you might have missed. But than again I am also on my third Screwdriver and might be missing something.


I liked this, but it could be a bit longer. Just for effect.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Nice one, I can exactly see the irony you're trying to deliver with this story. This is very good, thanks for sharing.

Posted 2 Years Ago


Interesting read, I could relate in a few ways. And its true,... every event affects you however small. You continue to harden or soften or somewhere in between. I go through waves of each and its a cycle I cant seem to put an end to. I rescue animals... but I am also fascinated by anatomy and taxidermy. Now I'm rambling... The ending actually shocked me a little, but it made perfect sense.

Posted 2 Years Ago


BAlanMorgan

2 Years Ago

I wanted an end that made you continue to think about what just entered into your mind. I wanted th.. read more
A Glow in the Pit of My Soul

2 Years Ago

yup! it worked! haha
Wonderful story:) i absolutely love the beginning! Amazing job. You are very talented:)

Posted 2 Years Ago


BAlanMorgan

2 Years Ago

I was trying to get to the point. I struggle with back story before the story begins, so I wanted t.. read more

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Added on January 23, 2015
Last Updated on January 23, 2015

Author

BAlanMorgan
BAlanMorgan

Rancho Cucamonga, CA



About
I'm a twenty year old student, writer, and musician. I've been interested in writing for more than seven years now, however I've only ventured into the competitive field twice. I won two competition.. more..

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