Plight of the Peacock

It was a cloudy, gloomy evening when I first saw the peacock.

I was outside, sitting under an aspen tree, bare as bone and as gnarly as a

twisted grin. The wind whistled, a low, malevolent song that shook the walls of

my small home and rattled the falling leaves of the barren trees around me.

So this was it.

The fall of life. Everything seemed to fail. No birds serenaded the inhabitants of

Earth, no rabbits feasted on the dying grass. I had run out of food, out of water,

and I awaited death, desperately calling for this to end.

Everything seemed hopeless. Everything was lost, or so I thought at the time. It

sure would've been if it wasn't for the peacock.

I still remember the moment when the wind just stopped, a pause from the

onslaught of cold and the agonizing whisper of the world.

I was just getting ready to stand and greet the unknown, when I heard a long,

graceful cry.

A brilliant blue and green bird flew saintly into sight. It was the most beautiful

thing I had ever laid my eyes upon. It was a peacock, with a deep ocean blue

neck, an icecap white spot around each of its earth-brown eyes, and a brilliant

wave of leaf green ran from the blue to the start of its tail feathers. Oh, the tail

feathers! Millions of them, so plentiful and and every feather sported a deep

green, a river hue, and a deep violet, as well as other majestic shades that made

me want to weep tears of joy.

I was stunned.

Utterly speechless, I watched as the bird landed in front of me and slowly spread

its wings to reveal a brilliant orange and black. I gaped on as the grass turned

green, as the tree drew a deep breath and straightened itself up, as flowers grew

and burst into bloom. The peacock had returned the beaut...

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... into the dark and foreboding sky.

I heard a long, lament escape the bird's beak; a cruel parody of its previous song.

A lone ray of sunlight followed it, broadcasting its departure as it flew off into the

rolling clouds beyond.

I am left with nothing. So I sit today, at the base of the tree, thinking. Thinking

about how cruel I was to that bird. All it did was save me, and I brought complete

despair and destruction to it. All it did was save me, and I turned it into a

caricature of its former self.

All because of my 'Just a little more. Just one more time'.

Well, there is no more and no more times. I have brought this upon myself, and I

can't get out of it. I can't summon the aid of my angel. The sun falls into the grey

and dreary mass above, just as it did on the day of the bird's desperate, running

plight.

I have never seen the peacock since.