Libing
It never went well of course. The crickets were always so brash, so prideful.
"No thank you." They'd always say, "Why don't you try the winged weasels holding their wings out?"
The birds would always retort, "Hey!"
"Don't waste the food! If you don't want it then we'll take it!"
And the boy would get to laugh.
...
That day however, the forest was silent. There was no clicking of the tongue, nor any squawk for more rice.
The boy called out to his friends, the birds and crickets.
"Hello?"
But, none replied.
A gust of cold wind passed through the forest, and distant brown hues of the sky were getting closer.
It would rain.
A strike of lightning, and a shock of thunder sounded off from afar.
The boy called out to friends again.
...
The forest was silent, but the sky grew ever louder--more furious.
"No thank you." They'd always say, "Why don't you try the winged weasels holding their wings out?"
The birds would always retort, "Hey!"
"Don't waste the food! If you don't want it then we'll take it!"
And the boy would get to laugh.
...
That day however, the forest was silent. There was no clicking of the tongue, nor any squawk for more rice.
The boy called out to his friends, the birds and crickets.
"Hello?"
But, none replied.
A gust of cold wind passed through the forest, and distant brown hues of the sky were getting closer.
It would rain.
A strike of lightning, and a shock of thunder sounded off from afar.
The boy called out to friends again.
...
The forest was silent, but the sky grew ever louder--more furious.