Writing Club
March 20, 2012
Prompt: “The
quality of mercy is not strange”
Bill
stood pontifically over the small bird.
It was a quandary. Should he snap
the little thing’s neck? Another bird
had struck the kitchen window again, cracking the glass. Feathers flapped frantically as the sparrow
struggled to lift from the ground. It
was evident that its wing was broken, bent backwards as it was. Three year old Sarah, sat cross -legged at
upon the porch watching, her bright eyes awaiting his action. He turned from his daughter to the bird. It would be more merciful to give the avian a
quick end. It would never fly
again.
“Daddy,
can you fix it?” He heard from behind
him. It wouldn’t matter that the wing would
not mend. When he turned to face her,
his gaze fell upon her sling. Her cast
came off in two weeks. Sarah would not
understand no matter what he did.
Scooping
the bird up in his hands, he comforted her “See there, Daddy will take him to
the vet. Fetch me a box, honey.”
As
the girl rose and crossed the porch, he tripped over the garden hose and
fell.
There
was a small crunch. It was probably for
the best anyways.
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