Retribution

A true story that happened to me

THE DEAD BIRD

My eyes inched open and I registered the gentle drumming of the ceasing rain and the cold air blasting at me.

Grasping the handle, I pushed the door open. A putrid smell greeted me, although the scent of the rain muffled it.   

“Be careful. There’s a dead bird.”

True enough, there it was. With its head tucked into its feathery chest and its orange-red legs contrasting sharply with the grey, black and white feathers, it was a pitiful sight. Its feathers were flattened on the tar surface with an obvious tire imprint on its body. Leaves had fluttered onto it, Gaia’s private funeral, I decided. Perhaps, that was why the rain was summoned- to symbolize her tears.

Try as I might, tearing my eyes away was a challenging task. It seemed to be attracted to the death of an innocent pigeon.

When I finally turned to leave, the action itself seemed to further numb me from feeling anything. As an avid lover of animals, surely I would have felt something- at least a spark of emotion, right? No, I felt nothing, like a non-living thing.

As I type this story on my Samsung laptop, feeling the edge of the wooden chair cut into my thighs, I cannot help but return to the sight I saw six hours ago. It is when I focus on the miniscule details- the ants crawling over the carcass and flies hovering above it that I start to feel sick, the almost unmistakable taste of vomit at the back of my throat. My head begins to ache and throb, and my new pair of glasses seems to be squeezing my head relentlessly with its lethal red legs. There is a lump in my throat which is making it harder and harder to breathe. I start to feel feverish and have the uncontrollable urge to scream. Is this my delayed reaction I should have gotten when I saw the bird or the retribution of Mother Nature for not mourning at her child’s funeral? I wonder.

I don’t know the answer, and I probably never will. What I do know is that this scene will keep repeating itself in my head like a broken player and it will haunt me in my dreams or whenever I see an innocent pigeon outside my window staring at me. It will keep popping back like the scene in the horror game Hotel 61 where the bloodied vampire screams at me.

I might have to sleep with my nightlight on and keep the radio blasting crappy pop music on for the whole night just to distract me so that I may have a good night’s rest. Or maybe I will have to be forced to swallow the white pill which puts me to sleep, but I cannot be certain if that scene will reappear in my dreams.

Author's Note

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