The silly bird stood by the cage bars and cried “I have nothing inside! I am not a good bird! I feel nothing and I am nothing! But I will be free! I will be free and nothing else!” He flew at the other birds, pecking at their eyes, piercing their hearts. Amongst the flesh and blood, the stench of sin began to fade to a distant memory.
[The illustration is limited in detail by restriction of materials available to him, but it gets the point across. Formless black blobs lay in a puddle, the orange bird standing amongst them.]
Amongst the bodies, the little bird laughed. For the first time it was genuine, for just beyond him he saw the cage door- open just on a hinge. Just how long had it been open for, the little bird wondered, as he went towards the light of the world outside.
[The last illustration is lovingly detailed, clearly time was spent on the intricate details of the feathers of the flying orange bird.]
3/? cw: bird violence
[The illustration is limited in detail by restriction of materials available to him, but it gets the point across. Formless black blobs lay in a puddle, the orange bird standing amongst them.]
Amongst the bodies, the little bird laughed. For the first time it was genuine, for just beyond him he saw the cage door- open just on a hinge. Just how long had it been open for, the little bird wondered, as he went towards the light of the world outside.
[The last illustration is lovingly detailed, clearly time was spent on the intricate details of the feathers of the flying orange bird.]