My heart is frazzled. I met another hare once, long ago, preceding my family getting caught in some metal mechanism, forcing me to never see them again. My composure was kept, though my mind raced. Perhaps they took my family to a forbidden garden. Surely, they didn't use them for stew, although I heard stories of such from woodland folk. Another hare was something I thought I'd never know. I thought this jittery box of doom was the end of all hares. I thought I was alone. But alas, one day I saw the most radiant hare of all hares I had ever imagined in my little hare brain of mine. Her fur glistened with shades of pink, her texture smooth as the stream down the road and her eyes brighter than any flower I'd ever stumbled upon. Ironically enough, a flower is what she had stumbled upon, though no normal flower- a flower too difficult to tear from the earth on her own. My heart spoke for my mind as I hopped to the yellow flower, pulling at the roots, tugging harder than I tugged at the metal trap that one sorry day. I yanked, pulled, hard as I could, dirt clenched underneath my teeth and paws, until I released the flower from the earth. Though when I looked up, she was gone. I just thought subtly to myself, "What in the hell am I going to do with a flower?" And nothing with that flower was ever done.
Created: Jul 24, 2012whitesatin Document Media