“Mommy, why do birds break their wings?” the little boy said, gazing at the flocks of birds into the skyline.
Mother paused momentarily.
“Sometimes, they lose sight of where they’re going, and they get into bad accidents. But, sometimes, it’s intentional,” Mother said. “Do you know about hunters?”
The little boy shook his head hesitantly. Mother opened her arms, and the little boy instinctively went closer to embrace her.
“Son, there are some people out in the world who like to hunt. Sometimes, they do that in the woods, where the animals naturally live. They use weapons and kill them.”
The little boy’s eyes widened in fear.
“But animals, even birds, they’re not weak. They’re like us... They’re connected to the Universe. They know when someone around has bad intentions. They know how to protect themselves and fight back when they need to, just like the way you run away from people you don’t know, son.”
“But why do they kill?” he asked.
“Because it gives them either happiness, or money… or maybe even both. Either way, they think they need to.”
“Mommy,” the little boy said, “What happens when birds break their wings?”
“They hurt... They hurt so bad that sometimes, it’d almost be impossible for their broken wings to mend again.”
“Then,” he said, looking down, “Will they never fly again? Will they die?”
Mother smiled warmly and softly gave a pat on the little boy’s head.
“That would be sad. But, some people say that when you break, you can never turn back to the way you were again.”
The little boy started frowning and looked down on the grass.
Mother held the little boy tighter around her arms, giving him a reassuring embrace. “But, they heal.”
The little boy turned around and looked at Mother enthusiastically, with his luminescent eyes gleaming. “Really? And then?”
“Well, if they’re healed enough, they can go up high in the sky, or somewhere safe,” Mother said, “Somewhere...”
Before she could finish talking, she was taken aback by a white dove that flew past her and the little boy, leaving a white feather falling by her autumn-colored eyes, and down to the ground.
“−beautiful,” Mother uttered.
“But mommy, how long will it be until they heal again? Can they really heal again?”
“Have patience, my beautiful baby,” Mother said, embracing the little boy.
---
“Mommy… Will I really heal again?”
The little boy said, kneeling, as he cried in front of his mother’s black casket.
Honestly the story is worth the read! The composition is well done and the emotion is there. Not only that, it also sends out a message and a deep thought to the reader. Kudos to the writer!