#driders

He approached the birdhouse slowly and carefully. He had constructed it himself out of twigs and leaves, securing it with webs and setting it on a low-hanging branch. A bird couple must have found the lodging satisfactory, because not a week ago, their babies had hatched inside.

At the sound of Jasper’s approach, the squawking started up almost immediately.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jasper said.

He knew the mother and father were out foraging themselves, but the birds in the past hadn’t been offended when Jasper had contributed some extra help, so here he was, lifting the roof of the house ever-so-gently and dropping little morsels into each baby’s open mouth.

The chicks swallowed their dinner and ruffled their feathers. Jasper would have loved to watch them all night, but that wasn’t his place. He closed the roof just as their mother came in with a worm.

As he patrolled the perimeter of his territory, he nearly tripped on a stick. Upon closer examination, however, Jasper realized he owed someone an apology.

“So sorry about that, little fella,” Jasper said, sidestepping out of the snake’s path.

Jasper stayed up for a few more hours, humming a little tune to himself as he tended to his forest.

…

Jasper woke up that evening to silence. He blinked slowly before stretching and heading out of his cave.

He passed the tree with the birdhouse and paused. Usually, the babies would be screaming their little heads off by now. He approached the birdhouse and peeked inside through the opening.

He stifled a gasp. Nestled comfortably inside was a long, scaly, black snake. It looked just like the snake from yesterday, save for the fact that its middle was considerably wider.

Jasper’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His gaze hardened and his jaw set. All he could see was red.

 He ripped the roof off of the house and pulled the murdering creature out by the tail. A rock to the head and its frenzied struggles ceased. Jasper’s clawed finger tore through the snake’s stomach just as a sharp hunting knife would.

Inside, as he feared, lay the chicks. He pulled them out as quickly as he could while not hurting them.

“Come on, come on,” Jasper muttered.

None of them made a move. Jasper watched them for well over a minute, and at no point did the baby birds draw breath.

Wings fluttered behind him, and Jasper turned with brimming tears. The mother peeked into the house. She could smell snake.

She swooped down next to Jasper. She nudged one of the chicks with her beak. She chattered, hopping around the babies in vain hopes to rouse them.

Jasper’s lower lip trembled. He turned away. The snake’s corpse stared up at him, boring into his soul.

Jasper buried his face in his hands as the tears fell. His sobs broke through the silence of the forest, frightening any creature that had dared to remain in the vicinity. He sat on the ground while his whole body shook and trembled. His breathing came in ragged and shallow.

Those baby birds had thought they were safe. They were trusting their house to keep them sheltered from predators. They had barely opened their eyes yet. They had been waiting for their mother when the giant monster invaded their home, and they were utterly helpless to stop their own suffering.

And yet, the snake was only acting in its nature. It wasn’t out of malice; it was just hungry. But Jasper wasn’t hungry, he had been angry. He had killed in cold blood. He was worse than the snake had ever been.

This was based on something that happened in my teenage years. I never killed the snake, but I really, really wanted to. I felt so angry and full of rage, even though I knew it was just nature playing out. In writing this, I got to explore what might have happened if I had acted on that rage.

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