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Description
The Little Girl who's Mother was a Flightless Bird

Here is a glittering twilight purple and silent. Rolling hills and distant winds chiming distant voices. A lone spindly tree holding only half of it's leaves and a lone figure underneath it keeping the rest of them company. A little girl.

She had never been a normal child with a moral life nor had she ever been entertained by conventional things. She was a sick child both in body and mind.

Every once in awhile while she would get sick and have to stay in bed for months. During these times she eventually became adjusted to the unrelenting pain. She would not cry out... yet, her heart was weak you see, as often weak as her spirit and far less secretive.

They sit under a poplar tree when the twilight was cold but forgiving she ponders all of this.

As the feathered death fluttered between her cold fleshy digits she found a sense of glee, she had not found this often or many times before sitting underneath that poplar tree.

An adrenaline pumped through her veins now with much force pushing unseen powers and unexpected things straight through her to her core where, there resting was the thing that urged her to take breath.

As her fingers grew colder and began to release, and the sight of such flightless things began to fade from view, those very breaths grew quite short and quickened. Her head fall back in one fell swoop like a marionette puppet, her long baby hair caressing softly her small shoulders one last time.

She gazed upon the stars and as they seemed to shimmer and grow a brighter light, they also seemed to look back unto her with such malice as she had never known. From either the small flighty and crawly creatures she chose to dominate completely or her loving mothers gaze.

She wished she had been a better child, a more loving and respectful child and all she wanted now was to be held by her loving mother and be told that this hurt and turmoil inside her would fade and that everything would be alright in the end.

These things were all no impossible of course because her mother was that now sallow limp flightless dead thing in her hands.

This was her last thought as the cold stars took her into them, although she was not to reisde within them as the ones that came before her.

She was shoved down forever to wilt and cry and scream quietly and mouth silently to her mother the things she could never say. bound down on the ground under that poplar tree forever regretting, forever wishing. Holding between her fingers the very thing which caused her to do all these things.

The little girl who's mother was a flightless bird.

Description
The Little Girl who's Mother was a Flightless Bird

Here is a glittering twilight purple and silent. Rolling hills and distant winds chiming distant voices. A lone spindly tree holding only half of it's leaves and a lone figure underneath it keeping the rest of them company. A little girl.

She had never been a normal child with a moral life nor had she ever been entertained by conventional things. She was a sick child both in body and mind.

Every once in awhile while she would get sick and have to stay in bed for months. During these times she eventually became adjusted to the unrelenting pain. She would not cry out... yet, her heart was weak you see, as often weak as her spirit and far less secretive.

They sit under a poplar tree when the twilight was cold but forgiving she ponders all of this.

As the feathered death fluttered between her cold fleshy digits she found a sense of glee, she had not found this often or many times before sitting underneath that poplar tree.

An adrenaline pumped through her veins now with much force pushing unseen powers and unexpected things straight through her to her core where, there resting was the thing that urged her to take breath.

As her fingers grew colder and began to release, and the sight of such flightless things began to fade from view, those very breaths grew quite short and quickened. Her head fall back in one fell swoop like a marionette puppet, her long baby hair caressing softly her small shoulders one last time.

She gazed upon the stars and as they seemed to shimmer and grow a brighter light, they also seemed to look back unto her with such malice as she had never known. From either the small flighty and crawly creatures she chose to dominate completely or her loving mothers gaze.

She wished she had been a better child, a more loving and respectful child and all she wanted now was to be held by her loving mother and be told that this hurt and turmoil inside her would fade and that everything would be alright in the end.

These things were all no impossible of course because her mother was that now sallow limp flightless dead thing in her hands.

This was her last thought as the cold stars took her into them, although she was not to reisde within them as the ones that came before her.

She was shoved down forever to wilt and cry and scream quietly and mouth silently to her mother the things she could never say. bound down on the ground under that poplar tree forever regretting, forever wishing. Holding between her fingers the very thing which caused her to do all these things.

The little girl who's mother was a flightless bird.