Bird Killer

I guess you can say I've been killing birds my whole life.

There's just something about taking a life that's so... beautiful.

It makes me feel the thin ice called life we forget to tip toe on and eventually fall through.

I like to hold the bird as it dies. It usually screeches for a while, sometimes hours.

But then it's gone. The bird usually stops moving before it's dead. But I don't put it down until the heart stops beating and blood, rather than air, fills it's lungs.

Then I bury it. I say a prayer thanking God for the bird and cover it in the dirt - deep in my mom's tomato garden.

"Life generates new life." They say.

It makes me happy to see the bright red tomatoes growing in the garden. Each bird is in the vegetables, and it brings me a strange sense off peace knowing that each bird is now a delicious fruit for anyone to enjoy because of me.

"Your mom has the best tomatoes in Louisiana!" They say.

Mom is proud.

She doesn't know that I'm the reason for her success.

No one but my sister knows.

I am the bird killer, but I am getting tired of birds.