Oh blog, blog, neglected blog. How could I treat you so cruely? My capacity for neglect knows no bounds. But I shall make amends to you, dear blog, by giving you enough writing to choke on. Well, maybe not quite that much but a story. An old one. Comments would be nice. The meanings are rather clear and the characters have rather obvious bases if you know me.
The failed songbird sat silently on her branch. Birds of different species flittered and fed around her, some even bidding her to join them. But she, fearing a trick, declined.
They only pitied her. With her odd voice dull colors and slow flight, there was no room for one of them to truly like her. Her voice, as well as the ideas she voiced with it, was so very odd that it made others uncomfortable. So she didn’t use it and was acceptant of a sad life alone.
There were a few odd birds that had stayed around her despite everything but by now they had all left her. Humans picked birds they fancied as pets. Those with beautiful colors and/or a nice voice were chosen while those without were left behind to die at the teeth of predators.
As was the case with most of her friends. They had all been picked or had grown bored with her. She couldn’t blame them and did not begrudge them their happiness. She simply had nothing to do with herself.
She was pulled from her malcontent musing by a feeling that something was amiss. Something was indeed off; all others had taken leave of the clearing and she was alone. A slow fear seized her. What had driven the others away? Why hadn’t she noticed it, whatever it was? With the realization there was something there though, she became overtaken with calm, a very out of place, almost suicidal all things considered, calm.
Whether it was an instinctual “don’t move and it won’t catch you” or a suicidal “Fuck it, life couldn’t get any worse” she didn’t know. I take that back; it was most deffinitly the suicidal “Fuck it” because, in adition to immobility, she found herself unable to keep from singing. Some part of her seemed to have forgotten that her voice was freakish and that her songs were not often appreciated. That part wanted to sing.
Despite being unable to rationalize it, she couldn’t stop it and from deep in her chest came a series of notes taught to her by her mother; long since dead. At first her voice wavered and struggled, having been neglected for quite some time, but after a bit it cleared and she found a new appreciation for her voice, having missed it so much in past years.
She was almost comfortable, lost in her song and feeling as if she belonged there, when a crashing came through the woods. She fell silent and looked up sharply just as a tall, handsome human stumbled through the shrubs.
His features were fair, not a prince charming by any stretch, but something…indescribable…about him was more lovely than any physical feature could be. Something about the man suggested an honest, poetic soul.
She never understood how some birds could just give up themselves, like an object, to these humans. The idea entirely disgusted her. But for this human…she could see herself happy in his care.
It seemed his presence had been what scared the others away. But to her, he had a delightful benevolent aura. She wanted to get closer and be with this human that had won her heart and trust at a glance.
But she regretted her foolishness, having set herself up for heartbreak. Humans have very specific tastes and there was no way one would want a plain, failed songbird. He would never want her. He appeared to have lost sight of her. To show him that his quest had been in vain, she sang a few soft notes to get his attention again.
His eyes snapped to her and, instead of the disappointment she expected, she say something new and odd. Almost perhaps adornment or love.
He walked towards her, not dissuaded by her plain colors or her odd voice, but rather, afraid to lose her. She watched, amazed, as he walked most of the way towards her in small, cautious steps, trying to keep from scaring her and sending her fluttering away.
She was immobile again and, this time, from surprise. After he stopped moving towards her, afraid he was pushing a limit; she decided to take her chance and hopped to his arm.
