The Incident
Blurred is what you would call a wealthy person. Whether they are a man or a woman is still to be
determined but as time passes by you realize that you tend to care less and less about that detail.
Their house is huge and giving you anything you want would be ridiculously easy… if you could
talk. They have taken a liking to petting your soft white fur and doesn't look like they want you to
take any other form.
But the main advantage to your predicament would be that you had all the time in the world to learn
to fly, and so you did. Beating your wings and rising over everything is an addictive feeling and you
love it. You happily fly around as your master takes care of his clients and prepares his spells in the
laboratory. In the evening, you enjoy a rest on his lap as he reads a book in front of the fire.
Until the day you catch a bird.
It is a normal bird, of so you assume, meaning that it didn't look like the types that were spitting fire
or the type that changed into a scorpion you had already encountered around here. You observe it
from afar at first, fascinated by its small, quick moves, and out of mere curiosity you slowly
approach it.
You suddenly want to catch. Seeing it peck the seeds in the grass and flutter right and left calls to
something in you that you can't quite control. You try to resist… but before you know it, your sharp
teeth close on the frail neck and something snap.
You freeze with your dead prey in the mouth as the realization of what you have done slowly sink
in. You killed. You, the one that would always protest when your mother would go on a fly
swatting frenzy, the one that had wanted a pet since age dot, the one that wanted to be a zoo keeper
when you were small, killed a bird.
On purpose.
Guilt fills you
Written by Clayem on 23 March 2016
