Lessons

No, no, no. This is not a take on The Lion, The witch and The wardrobe. Not even close. The man in the story dies at the beginning.  The Lion in this story is GUILTY. The donkey in the story is kind of a normal donkey. So the story goes like this: Flare was blind with rage, quite literally. He seemed to leap out of no where, landing quite nowhere tearing up a man riding a donkey. Almost immediately, his anger seemed to morbidly transform into something he couldn't describe. Shame? Guilt? Do animals feel that? He froze. Was it intentional? He couldn't tell. He was mad at the humans for killing his friend who had no intentions of harming them. The thought of their repulsive celebration as they carried the carcass on a pole made him gag. Why did he not feel the thrill or the satisfaction of  having avenged?  I don't know how long he could have gone on like that, because you see that's the thing with thoughts. you can live a life time in two minutes. Or spend a lifetime rem

 Don't look at me!  I am just a sparrow up a tree.  I am not even fit for a sacrifice. It is reserved for those pigeons and doves. I am no good.  Just leave me alone.  Can't you see, I am trying to hide?  Rattle snakes are pretty common out here. Who knows?  You might just be one- pretending to be all human. And your being human is no relief to me. If Solo could make the passer -by understand, he would have chirped out the whole thing in under five seconds albeit hidden. But he was too scared to make a sound. All of this monologue was running in his head as the casual commoner strode along after a moment's rest under his tree.  That night he had a nightmare. In it, he fell off the tree into a man's hands. He got up with a cold shiver having come so close to feeling dead. For the next several hours, even after the sun had risen brilliantly, he didn't feel like leaving the nest. Hunger forgotten, he imagined the worst.  "Solo, you coward, shake off the fear. You