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(Originally posted on October 30, 2019)
Mockingbird | 1,820 words | Fantasy
It is long-forgotten knowledge that mockingbirds could once mimic more than other birds. They were skilled shapeshifters back then, blending in with herds of wild animals, and even, sometimes, with humans. They would laugh and roam and enjoy the feeling of a different body, a different way of moving, a different way of communicating.
But they had among them one fast rule: when it came time to eat, they ate as birds. For, ultimately, that is what they were, and the shape they must always return to, and they knew that if they tasted the foods other animals – especially humans – consumed, the insects and berries they feasted upon now would never again satisfy.
And so they lived and played, vibrantly, mischievously, learning to form human words on their tongues, nosing the pastures with the livestock. At night, they’d shift back to roost, and fall asleep to the sounds of crickets and frogs, and the occasional lovelorn male serenading the stars, hoping some unpaired female might be moved to pity.
All was fine until one remained out too long, in the form of a human man, singing and cavorting with other humans at a village festival, unable – or unwilling – to find a bit of privacy in which to change back. His feet ached and his stomach felt hollow, but still, he danced. He enjoyed the movement of his limbs, seemingly pulled along by the rhythm of the music; he enjoyed the laughter and cheer around him; and he especially enjoyed the warmth of the women he pulled close when the music slowed, so that they might sway to the rhythm together.
As the sun set and the stars faded into view, the mockingbird grew more reluctant to leave. What he had here was a life – light and company and attention. And all he had to return to was a lonely branch and a nightly song that had already worn his throat raw. The choice was a simple one: he would stay a man, just for a few days more, and he would eat and drink with the other people, and prove to the rest of his kind that there was nothing to fear in that.
( Read more... )
It is long-forgotten knowledge that mockingbirds could once mimic more than other birds. They were skilled shapeshifters back then, blending in with herds of wild animals, and even, sometimes, with humans. They would laugh and roam and enjoy the feeling of a different body, a different way of moving, a different way of communicating.
But they had among them one fast rule: when it came time to eat, they ate as birds. For, ultimately, that is what they were, and the shape they must always return to, and they knew that if they tasted the foods other animals – especially humans – consumed, the insects and berries they feasted upon now would never again satisfy.
And so they lived and played, vibrantly, mischievously, learning to form human words on their tongues, nosing the pastures with the livestock. At night, they’d shift back to roost, and fall asleep to the sounds of crickets and frogs, and the occasional lovelorn male serenading the stars, hoping some unpaired female might be moved to pity.
All was fine until one remained out too long, in the form of a human man, singing and cavorting with other humans at a village festival, unable – or unwilling – to find a bit of privacy in which to change back. His feet ached and his stomach felt hollow, but still, he danced. He enjoyed the movement of his limbs, seemingly pulled along by the rhythm of the music; he enjoyed the laughter and cheer around him; and he especially enjoyed the warmth of the women he pulled close when the music slowed, so that they might sway to the rhythm together.
As the sun set and the stars faded into view, the mockingbird grew more reluctant to leave. What he had here was a life – light and company and attention. And all he had to return to was a lonely branch and a nightly song that had already worn his throat raw. The choice was a simple one: he would stay a man, just for a few days more, and he would eat and drink with the other people, and prove to the rest of his kind that there was nothing to fear in that.
( Read more... )
