Pity for The Baby Bird

Excerpt from Mother of Mars (Yes, I’m still working on this.)

Rumbling over the rocky landscape, the comforting sound of radio static plays in Cecil’s ears.  Agrippa speaks up.   “How… how do you feel about all this?”  He hesitates.

“It’s been hard to process all of this, Agrippa.”  Cecil sighs, leaning over the front seat.  “I know that I can’t stand that place… the station.  It’s unbearable.  Without my sight, it feels as if my other senses are in overdrive, and I can’t block anything out.  Secundus is quiet… serine.”

“Don’t try to ignore that fact that we’re headed back to that… thing, though.”  Agrippa hums.

“Even if I could ignore it, I don’t think would want to.  Now that I know what I might be dealing with… I don’t know.  It’s comforting.”

“How so?”  Agrippa asks.

“The people at the station… well, I felt like I couldn’t bear to face them anymore.”  Cecil reminisces.  “I’m afraid that when people talk to me, all they see is someone to feel bad for.  Tulia said so as well.  I feel like I can hear the pity in their voice.  Sometimes I feel like I’m just confirming their expectations because all I can do is regurgitate their sentiments.

“I don’t believe that Cecil.  They may be looking out for you, but this isn’t a place where we nurture pity.”

“I know that… but you can’t just deny human nature.  It’s like finding a baby bird that’s fallen out of its nest.  People will want to bring it back to its mother, even if touching it will end up doing more harm than good.  That thing… it doesn’t judge me.  It tries to understand, rather than just judging.  I still don’t know what to make of it, but it’s some solace.”

“Just promise me you won’t lose yourself though, Cecil.”  Agrippa trails off, leaving the rest of the ride silent.

%d bloggers like this: