The Dream of Disembodied Birds, Carly Winat

The Dream of Disembodied Birds

I dreamed of a great transformation last night. I dreamt that a small, faint-hearted girl became a courageous, tenacious hunter. With a freshly sharpened spear in each hand, she patiently waited for the golden sunlight to be hidden by the ominous night sky; that’s when she would attack. After years of keeping her rage hostage, like a prisoner of war, she was ready to take down her eternal enemy, her archrival. Magically, her veins no longer coursed with blood, but with valor. She locked eyes with her first victim; a pigeon. A wave of adrenaline pulsated through her veins, exploding like a river of crashing rapids and pushed her towards the disgusting pigeon. She quickly took one of her spears and plunged into the heart of the useless creature. As the sky continued to darken, her breaths continued to deepen. Her eyes widened when she spotted victim number two; a parrot. With a running start, bombarded the vial thing. The parrot squawked and squealed with terror, but was brought to the floor with the slash of a razor sharp spear as if sliced with the clean efficient precision of a surgeon. Hours had passed. Bird after bird was slaughtered, butchered, hacked to death in a graceful dance of red death. Suddenly, dusk was arising. A faded denim color broke over the horizon, as midnight black was slowly on its way to an early morning blue. She had though it was over, but it wasn’t. I could see it in her eyes that she had a pit in her stomach. She felt she wasn’t alone yet. Silence. The uneasy quietness was quickly disrupted by a fowl beast soaring above her head; an eagle. There was no time to waste. Using her blood-spattered shirt, she wiped off her only weapon and went in pursuit of her target, chasing the eagle down. She pushed through bushes, leaves, trees, and all that got in her way. She never spent a split second looking anywhere but wherever her final victim was. The chase went on until the creature suddenly led her to the top of a mountain. With the strength of every muscle in her body she pounced forward and caught the eagle by his wings. She successfully pinned him to the ground and raised her spear above her head.

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The now helpless eagle looked at her and weakly uttered, “Why?” And she firmly replied with nothing but three words, “You know why.” And then he was gone. She dusted herself off and gazed at the view over the mountaintop; fields upon fields of disembodied birds as far as the eye could see. She had done it. Every last bird was dead and gone. There was only last thing to do. Using what was left of her spear, she carved out words into the rocky surface of the mountain. When she stepped away from it, it clearly read “For the girl back home who is terrified of birds. They can’t hurt you anymore.” I smiled upon seeing that.

Carly Winat ’14

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