Feathers

You seems so happy, you always do.

Whenever I lean down to stroke your soft feathers, you always shutter. I know you love the way it feels, I know it. The serene aura you give off it simply, wonderful. You can always look at me with your crystallized eyes, and tell me what you think without making a sound.

Loving you has made me a better person. I can feel it in my heart. Everytime it is time for your fertilization, you hardly make a sound anymore. I like the way your sturdy beak feels against my skin sometimes. It makes me, excited.

Someday, I will let you fly. But your wings are still broken. Who knows why? Is it because you break them to stay with me? Do you love me that much? Flattering, but I want you to fly one day.

Today, I am changing your cage. So I carefully remove you from it. That reminds me, I need to weigh you again, you seem a little above one hundred now. Which is good, I was getting worried about you.

You legs are so long! Have they gotten longer since I liberated you from the wild? And you feathers... the blood is drying. That is good, I didn't want to go the hospital. You seem to tired to do anything like that.

When I put you down on the floor, you seem angry. It scared me when you started to jerk and twitch. I kissed your beak to calm you, but it didn't seem to work. I removed the sturdy string supporting your beak to get to your unholy parts. Those useless parts frightened me, because they were not the real thing. I press against your disgusting "lips" to calm your nerves. It seems to work, but you seem faint. I attach the beak again, and once more, you are my angel.

When you are back in your cage, I see a deep sorrow in your eyes. Why..? Was it because I took away your beauty for two seconds? I didn't mean to, I had to calm you down my feathery angel. Speaking of feathers, a few near your feet ripped off while I was putting you back in your cage. Seeing them lying on the floor is horrid for me, so I pick them up, pearls of red falling from the tips.

When I return, you are asleep, leaning against the small gold rails of your home. I clap my hands, which makes you alert. You see my holding the feathers in my hands,

And you began to make an awful noise.

Some sort of low grumble, close the ones you do right when I finish fertilizing you. You seem, scared. But why? I only want to make you beautiful. I retrieve the stapler from the desk nearest the door.

I want you to be beautiful. Now please, hold still. I see some of your disgusting mortal skin showing.

It's been a month since your last fertilization, and yet no new hatching. Maybe I should do a checkup, because I want my angel to have a mother's heart. But when you regurgitate your lunch, I know life is inside you. Tears blind my vision, but only for a moment. I need to be strong for you.

I put a heating light over your cage, because it is cold, and winter is coming. The chick needs to be kept safe. I can hear him sometimes, laughing in his small fetus form. I mean, it could be a her, but I see my little chick as a strong boy.

When I feed you, I can tell you are tired. It must be taking a lot out of you. It makes me sad to see you like this. I want to be able to help you, but I am not sure how I would. Maybe I can pet your feathers like you love me to do.

After a few more months of agony and wait, I watched you progress into your maternal instincts, and watched you become more hostile when I try to touch you. You would snap at me, scaring me. You made me cry a few times, but I know it because you are just hormonal. I think that is how it works anyways. I want this thing to be out of you faster so we can get over this rough patch.

I felt your stomach many times, and I could feel the chick growing and growing. He will become a hatchling soon, and my heart is in pure estacy.

Just a little longer, you can make it. I can see that determination in your eyes. That feisty look you get when I tell you something that seems to displease you.

It's time, I know because I hear your shrieks from my bedroom. I rush down the stairs, and you curled into your cage, moaning and weeping, grasping at your stomach. I feel your eyes burning into me. But all I can do is smile, because life is coming. We won't be bored anymore. We will be, happy again.

It was a gruesome business, but when I saw his pulpy wet head, laughter arose inside me. You seemed to still be in great pain, so I commanded you to give one last push, and that was it. He was in my arms, crying terribly loud. But I couldn't stop laughing.

You leaned your head against your cage, grasping for breath. You arms extended to the new hatchling, but I refused. This seemed to anger you, but I had to make sure our little guy was properly taken care of first.

I arose from the ground, his crying still disrupting the peace. Sure, he was still messy from the long process, but I would clean his feathers soon.

Coming back into the room, your eyes widen behind your cage for some reason. You seem me, and I am holding our new chick. But you seem to be looking at the feathers and the staple gun in my other hand. Shrieking, you try and fight out of the cage, crying and screaming. I don't understand your behaviour at all.

Your crying is getting louder, and I am afraid you are going to wake him up. So I try and calm you. Calm you as much as possible as to not awaken our lovely chick. But you continue, persist, never ceasing.

Oh well, I think as I lie our chick on the table. His nasty white skin isn't yet fixed. Right when I position the first feather on his small, fragile arm, his eyes open.

I smile, as I staple the first part of his angelic cloak onto his small toddler arm. You will be beautiful soon, nasty mortal child.

I will make you my angel. My precious angel.