Short Stories

Short Story: The Intelligence One of the Kind

I see what you are trying to do to me. Don’t think I don’t. The murder in your gaze is visible. But I won’t back down. I know you would like to see me scurry off, be no bother to you. It is not how it works. I have as much right to be here as you do. I remember the time you had some respect towards me, appreciating how clever I am. You praised me for being able to crack the nut. You saw a kinship in me. Now I am no more than a vermin to you—a pest and omen of ill.

What happened to us? I have always treated you the same. Been kind, expanding my generosity even to your offspring. I don’t deserve this. All I want is to be left in peace, to feast and multiply. Are our needs so far apart from each other for you not to see what I am?

But I can see you won’t change your course. You come at me in a desire to destroy. Be warned then, my friend, while I used to cherish our cooperation, hanging there always taking care of what you drop, I witness now it is me who will be the last one standing. You may perish one day by your own cleverness. I won’t. I keep adapting and adapting; you are stuck in your ways. So blinded by the differences and your needs, unable to detect what is worthy at all. Oh, I know you so well, you now blame me for a taking fancy of all shiny. You dare to say that, the one who has made an art out of living for obtaining glitter. But back to your preposterous claims, I might have taken a few. Nothing to merit me considered as a thief. Superstition you have taken into your heart—nothing to justify the murder in your eye.

What now? You are disgusted by my appetite. Appalled for flesh being devoured. Again, you kid yourself. It is me who is doing my duty, being part of the circle of life. But I have seen you, you grow the flesh you consume. Not I. I wait for it to die, and then I am there. What good it is to let it go to waste. The maggots will have enough after I am done, don’t you worry. Or do you consider them more righteous than I with their cause? You would, wouldn’t you? You double-faced oaf, and you don’t even hear how ridiculous you are.

We both have to agree here, it is not me whole killed this rabbit I am devouring. It is not me who ran over it. I give up, be as ridiculous as you want to me. You leave me no choice than flap my wings and get in the air. But I will be back when you have gone with your metallic murder machine with beaming eyes. The rabbit and I will stay when you are long gone. Hear my words.

For fuck’s sake, you tried to run me over!

Go, you coward! You forced me to caw aloud.

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day ❤

P.S. Ever since I was little, animal carcasses on the road have made me squeamish. They feel like a waste of life for speed. As a child, I loved these few animal cartoon shows, which portrayed terrifying car scenes when the animals had to cross the road. Sometimes when I drive, I still can see those scenes, and I feel shitty. (The shows I am talking about are Alfred J. Kwak and The Animals of Farthing Wood, and yes, I watched as a child Watership Down and loved it. I could argue here how those scenes have made me a more compassionate person, but I won’t go down that path.) They studied when COVID-19 changed our movement patterns and found that the lessened traffic saves a shit load of insects and pollinators. ( I had never considered what massive impact driving a car can be in that aspect. This is not a speech for me trying to convince you to let go of your car or see cars as evil. No, I have one, and I use it. It is essential for moving around, especially as I don’t live in a big city where public transport gets you everywhere. None of that. But some days, I think where the balance should lay?

© K.A. Ashcomb

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