Microfiction #9 — Perspective

Looking from above, I couldn’t understand their fascination with it. As I circled them from above, I kept begging them to stop romanticising flight, but it fell on deaf ears. Maybe they can’t understand me, but oh well.

Do they think it’s pleasant? It’s cold up here and I have to keep moving constantly. If I pass out, all that’ll remain of me is a messy concoction of feathers and blood on the ground. And I’m so tired all the time. It’s exhausting.

“I’ll build wings myself and fly!” says the bipedal mammal. How dare you consider yourself the daring hero, sir? Every single one of us flying every day are the real heroes. We give all we have so you can come up with your mechanical monstrosity and say that flying is a piece of cake? I don’t think so.

I think they should aim to swim first. It’s so much easier.

Within earshot in a lake nearby, a fish pops its head out of the water and says “Hold the f*ck up!”