Birds

Sightless birds. Sightless and flightless birds. He shot another one down from the whistling tree. What did it mean to be dead, he pondered, the dark light seeping through the cloud. Everything changed too quickly. Memories faded and the past like the number on the train that just flew past you; gone. What it meant to die was nothing, he said, but what it meant to live was everything. He shot another bird down from the tree.

Reviews

[Craig2591]

A bit surreal, but I am a surrealist at heart so that's a compliment from me. I like it.

[K.]

Yes, it's a bit (or more so, a lot) different from what I usually write, but somehow this idea popped into my head, and this is what happened. Thank you so much!

[Megan]

Short, poignant and to the point. It's great how you manage to get such emotion out in such a short piece of work. Lovely.

Megan.

[K.]

Thank you so much Megan! I really appreciate it.