[ broadcast mind ]
It is a field, as far as the eye can see, dotted with color. Blades of grass bend against the will of the quiet breeze, the fragrant flowers lending their soothing aromas. It is a calm that you've not known in so long. A calm that you would do almost anything to keep.
At your feet rests a tiny cage, bars thin, but metal, refusing to bow to the creature inside, hopping impatiently. She's restless, waiting for the door to open, waiting to frolic in the flowers with others, with those that might better accept her than a man who stands above her and commands her to behave... a master to his pet. She is tiny, and you feel you must protect her, even knowing this rabbit, as small as she is, can take care of herself in the wild, if only you would allow her that chance to prove it.
Another hops past, bright red and free, twice the size of the little one trapped inside her safe little cage. It stops and sniffs and she is curious too, her tiny nose twitching. When he departs to chew on the grass, her restless jumping only intensifies.
More come. Orange and white and yellow and brown. They gather in front of that cage, rabbit noses twitching, heads tilted to the side as they nibble on the grass.
Her jumps have ceased. She lays near the door of that cage and watches them, but you know it is not with contentment. She wants to be with them. She wants to be free, doesn't she?
You kneel beside that cage and your fingers hover over the release. You've used them before. You know how to release the lock. You know how to set her free. You have this chance to make her happy.
She looks up with her big, watery eyes, slow twitching of her nose. She's not begging, but you know what lies in her heart, simply by watching those eyes of hers and seeing the longing there.
You want to deny it. You want to deny her. You want to deny that feeling blooming in your chest that should never be felt. You want to deny that this is so much harder than releasing the lock on that cage and giving her what may quite possibly be her deepest desire. It is easier to deny it.
A small hand touches your own. You don't need to see its owner to know who it is, the one who always guides you when you think you are at your wits end about this little bunny. Your eyes close and you find comfort in the dark, in no longer seeing those big eyes.
It's okay. She says, her thumb stroking the back of your hand. It will be all right.
That hand suddenly disappears and you are, once more, looking at that rabbit. There might be understanding there, you think, but you do not allow it to settle. Your fingers release that lock and open the door.
She is hesitant, as if it may be a trick but when you stand and do not apprehend her, she leaves that cage of yours and joins the others, chewing on the grass like they are, content with their company.
"... I know," you tell her.
She is happy. She is free.
... you can live with that.
At your feet rests a tiny cage, bars thin, but metal, refusing to bow to the creature inside, hopping impatiently. She's restless, waiting for the door to open, waiting to frolic in the flowers with others, with those that might better accept her than a man who stands above her and commands her to behave... a master to his pet. She is tiny, and you feel you must protect her, even knowing this rabbit, as small as she is, can take care of herself in the wild, if only you would allow her that chance to prove it.
Another hops past, bright red and free, twice the size of the little one trapped inside her safe little cage. It stops and sniffs and she is curious too, her tiny nose twitching. When he departs to chew on the grass, her restless jumping only intensifies.
More come. Orange and white and yellow and brown. They gather in front of that cage, rabbit noses twitching, heads tilted to the side as they nibble on the grass.
Her jumps have ceased. She lays near the door of that cage and watches them, but you know it is not with contentment. She wants to be with them. She wants to be free, doesn't she?
You kneel beside that cage and your fingers hover over the release. You've used them before. You know how to release the lock. You know how to set her free. You have this chance to make her happy.
She looks up with her big, watery eyes, slow twitching of her nose. She's not begging, but you know what lies in her heart, simply by watching those eyes of hers and seeing the longing there.
You want to deny it. You want to deny her. You want to deny that feeling blooming in your chest that should never be felt. You want to deny that this is so much harder than releasing the lock on that cage and giving her what may quite possibly be her deepest desire. It is easier to deny it.
A small hand touches your own. You don't need to see its owner to know who it is, the one who always guides you when you think you are at your wits end about this little bunny. Your eyes close and you find comfort in the dark, in no longer seeing those big eyes.
It's okay. She says, her thumb stroking the back of your hand. It will be all right.
That hand suddenly disappears and you are, once more, looking at that rabbit. There might be understanding there, you think, but you do not allow it to settle. Your fingers release that lock and open the door.
She is hesitant, as if it may be a trick but when you stand and do not apprehend her, she leaves that cage of yours and joins the others, chewing on the grass like they are, content with their company.
"... I know," you tell her.
She is happy. She is free.
... you can live with that.