Well, reader, now you see what it has been like for me. The only one one my kind, alive for years and years and years. I have seen my kind fade away, pigeons no longer noble messengers, and instead scrounging for crumbs on the dirty ground of human cities. It makes me profoundly sad that this is what has become of my species, and this has finally made me see the reason for my existence: to spread the knowledge of our past, present, and future. I am a pigeon that has seen it all, and this is why. So I can tell people. So I can tell you and then you will tell others and on and on until the message has been spread, almost like a legion of pigeons had flown papers over a crowd and then dropped them, spiraling towards the mass of bodies. Together, we can accomplish this. This is what I ask of you now; remember me. Remember us. No matter how advanced the world will get, the ghosts of the past will still be there, just as I have been. But now, I'm finally done. I've fulfilled my duty in this world, and the job is on you now. And no matter what, remember, a pigeon will always fly back home.
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Flying Back Home
Ficción históricaHello there, dear reader. I would tell you my name, but it's changed so many times over the thousands of years of my life, that I wouldn't be able to recall it if I tried. All you need to know is that I am a passenger pigeon, or I was, at least, in...
