Parental discretion is advised.
The little sparrow died after one last violent spasm.
I am elated by the adrenaline of the hunt. I had almost forgotten the surge of ecstasy that comes from calculating the fate of a tiny being as they struggle with the hope of escape. It’s the surge of knowing that you have them cornered and in three seconds, the neck will snap under the weight of your jaws and the taste of warm blood will spill into your mouth.
The body stiffens. Victory. I clean my paws and fur of gore as I contemplate what I’ve become over the years.
Survival in the city has made me into a sad creature, existing somewhere between a domestic pet and a scavenger. I guess it was easier to prey on the sympathy of humans than it was to act upon natural instincts. When I did finally give into them, I was unfit and sloppy.
For days, I would watch the sparrows behind a wooden fence by the park bench. When they approached to feed on crumbs I would spring out and charge at what seemed like thing air. The birds would be baffled by my clumsy attempts to swat at them. They would then cackle as the purple-hooded woman scared me off with her cane. The sparrows quickly spread the gossip among their flock of an innocuous tomcat in the park. It was then that I saw my opportunity to play.
Each day, I would sit patiently on the bench after the purple-hooded woman left. Each day, the sparrows would tease me by coming closer and closer. And each day, I would sit there, stiff like a log. Until finally today, a daring young bird perched right beside me, chirping wildly as his cohort cheered him on. So it was the legend of the pathetic park cat that lead to this little sparrow’s unfortunate demise.
It looks so peaceful now that the bleeding has stopped.The funny thing is I’m not even hungry. If I don’t feed does that make me a killer? What would she think of me now?
I’ll leave the gift on her doorstep like a mother for her kittens. The corpse will also serve as a warning to the other sparrows. I made sure to mark the yard with my urine before I retired to wait for her. I slip through the bathroom window with the satisfaction that tomorrow the birds won’t be be mocking me.
‘Through Ian’s Eyes’ is a mini project based on my friend’s 1000+ iPhone photos taken between 2013-14. In the series I will pick one photo a day for a week to interpret in drawing and story.
The story is about a stray cat in New York who goes through an existential crisis as he begins to question what it means to be a cat in human society.
Update: I realize this is a bit of a morbid post, particularly for a Monday. I admit I had first posted this rather carelessly and hope that the parental guidance warning is sufficient for those who need to take care of themselves. The randomness of Ian’s photos and the natural progression of the character has lead me down a darker path. Now I have the privilege of choosing to be a vegetarian but the character of feline Ian does not. It seemed necessary for the story to have Ian explore the animal side of himself. I even changed the description above because it has become clearer to me what the story is about and that’s one of the exciting things of creating without a plan.
On a personal note, I have a few project deadlines to take care of in the next few days and will probably not be able to post until Wednesday. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy and see you soon!