When I was 5,
I saw a squirrel on the road.
I knew something was wrong,
because it wasn't moving.
I was always a curious child,
so I walked closer.
As I got closer and closer,
it became unmistakable,
there was pink and red mixed in with the grey.
I was still a young child,
so I did not know what I was looking at.
All I knew was fear.
It's not supposed to look like that.
I tried to look away, but I couldn't.
It wasn't morbid curiosity, it was far worse.
The tantalising fear had worked its way
into my nerves and my muscles.
Only when my parents called my name,
I could break free from it's spell
I wanted to cry,
but the tears didn't flow from my eyes.
The tears wouldn't help the squirrel,
I thought to myself.
instead, they moved to the pit of my heart.
They would stay there for a decade.
***
When I was 10,
I was playing in the yard.
I saw an old bird.
It had ruffled plumage, and couldn't fly straight.
In the blissful 5 years,
the squirrel nested in the back of my mind.
I knew what was to come.
The bird dropped, as if it were a rock.
I acted quick, I shut my eyes,
but I could not cover my ears.
By the time I opened my eyes,
a hundred flies had laid claim to their stake.
Like the flies with the bird,
the tantalising fear striked my body.
It would show no mercy. It had found its prey.
It thought I was vulnerable, weak,
but I had been growing stronger.
WIthin minutes, I had thwarted their attacks,
but I was foolish to think I had won.
As the insects devoured their meal,
all I could feel was pity.
Not just for the bird, but for the flies.
I felt pity for the grass in the yard,
the tall maple tree, for
in a given amount of time,
they would all be gone.
And they would not be remembered.
As I tried to turn away, I felt sadness in my heart.
The sadness grew into melancholy.
The melancholy swept the victory.
It destroyed everything in its path.
I had to rebuild everything, it was all gone.
It would take three years.
***
When I was 15, I was walking home,
I saw a cow had fallen ill.
At first, it could walk with its herd.
then she became slower.
Her herd left her behind.
Having no one to walk for,
no one to walk with, she laid down.
Only to never stand up again.
By this time, I knew the cycle was coming.
I turned to walk away, and braced,
no matter how headstrong or stoic I was,
I knew a demon would come to haunt me,
but I did not know which one.
When it struck, I was surprised.
It was not a demon.
It was my very own curiosity.
The same curiosity that cursed me into this cycle.
The curiosity that let me to the squirrel,
on that fateful day.
I felt betrayed, rightfully so.
And I gave into my curiosity's lament.
I stood, and watched the poor cattle die.
Every groan for help, every tear from her eye.
It was miserable, and I could only feel relief
when she was put out of her misery.
Every day, I'd walk the path and see her corpse.
At first, the wild animals feasted on her.
They cut into her abdomen.
The organs spilled out.
Her intestines, liver and stomach,
all out for the world to see.
To my disgust, they ate all of it.
Every day, there would be less and less of her.
If it wasn't the coyotes, it was the possums.
If it wasn't the possums, it was the maggots.
Day by day, her corpse would rot into the soil,
until there was nothing left but bone.
I stopped walking that path shortly after.
***
Yesterday, I was back in town.
I was visiting an old friend.
As I drove, a thought creeped into my mind.
I hadn't gone on that road for 10 years.
I decided to see if the bones had settled.
When I reached the road, I saw with my own two eyes,
a beautiful willow tree had taken the place of the bones.