The Mocking Jay #2
She walked through the woods. Alone wasn't abnormal for her; she was accustomed to the silence of her footsteps and the quietness of her breathing. The sound of the birds, she thought, is company enough. She sighed. "However, it would be nice to have a friend in this life."
Suddenly she heard a voice from above. "Squak-nice to have a friend-waukkk!" The sound was raspy, as if the creature honing that sound was thirsty. It made her jump in her boots, until she looked up and saw a mocking jay, sitting proudly in the tree hanging above her head.
The english verbadge had a questioning inflection to it, and this made her laugh out loud. "Oh my goodness what a fright you gave me, little thing!" She giggled some more. "I guess I was not expecting to see you so close to me, making fun of my loneliness, ha ha. Do you desire a friend, as I do?"
The bird stared into her eyes. Its gaze was unblinking, unwavering in its hold. A cold chill began to crawl up the girls spine. The jay cocked it's head to the side, staring straight through her pupils into the very essence of her being...seeing all her secrets and thoughts, shames and guilts.
She girl shuddered. "Mr. Bird, you seem...strange today."
"No," he hacked out, "you seem strange today, girl."
"Huh...?"
Again the bird spat out at her, "No, you seem strange today, girl!" but instead of the voice being that of an aged jay, the crisp and light sound of her mother came bubbling from it's throat.
The girl's eyes opened wide. "How do you know my..." she began.
"You are a strange one, like your father. Always off on your own...typica-SQUAK!"
Tears began to form in the girl's eyes, "How do you know about what mother says to me?!"
"CA-CA-CA," the jay bird laughed. "I know many a things, my dear. I know how you're not related to your mother-" in a sing song voice replicating mother, "-and that she adopted you in order the save her soul, or so she thought. She prayed to Jesus for repentence when she adopted you."
"T-thats....thats not true. How dare you!"
"Ho-oh, and theres more! I know how your REAL mother f*cked like a dirty *hore for her living. And I know that you were concieved on one of those nights...one of those nimom
ghts where your father was lonely and your mother was on the prowl for a shilling."
"Stop that! Stop it right now, you know nothing!" She was sobbing, tears were streaming down her face in a squal-like flood.
"Stop that! Stop it right now!" the bird mimicked back into her face.
"Stop it!"
"Stop it! CA-CA-CA!!!"
The girl had had enough. She put the sign of the cross across her torso and shouted at the heathen creature, "You are NOT God, and you have NO POWER over me!"
The girl stopped ca-laughing for a moment. It began staring deeply into her eyes again, boring into her very fiber of being. "Of course, no, silly girl." The crow then seemed to smile, if smiling can be possible with a beak. The corners of it's mouth curled up into a vicious smile. "I am only a messenger of the one they call Diablo. My job is to make sure you remember all your pain...all your fear...all your regret. I am here to torture your soul."
Just then, Hans, the girls best friend began to whistle over the hillside. The girl could hear him and was able to breathe a sigh of relief. "There, now," said the girl, "another human comes by to make sure I am not hallucinating such evils."
As Hans came closer, she ran up to greet him. He was taken a little bit aback by the surprise encouter on his way to fetch some water from the well, but he understood her need for a lonely walk once in a while. He listened to her story, of the crazy mocking jay that can mimick human thought. When the story had reached its end, and the duo had made their way back to the spot of the demon-bird, she said loudly, "See! There! Up there in the tree!" She pointed to the bird proudly. The bird still had the hideous smirk across its mouth, and at this, the bird began to cackle again. The sound was like nails on a chalk board.
Hans looked up and down and back and forth. He searched the tree she was pointing at with all his power, but alas, "I do not see a bird, little one."
She looked at the bird, flabergasted. Hans could not see the jay? Why?
"CA-CA-CA, my dear," the bird seemed to giggle out. "He will not see you as I am YOUR personal messanger. Hans cannot see what he does not need to see in this world." The bird cackle-giggled some more, then its wings picked up beat, and the bird flew away.
She watched it sore away, and a shiver ran through her body as she heard it call out one last warning to her.
"I shall return, but when, oh, when my dear? Have fun with my doubts for today, for I am the Mocking Jay!"
Moral: doubts are tiny voices that creep into your average day, making every effort to douse your normal thoughts out.