This is Mercy

What if I don’t want your mercy?

I hurt. …I hurt everywhere.

The metal teeth caught me in midair. I thought I would make it. I am an excellent jumper, I have cleared far higher and more perilous obstacles in these, my woods, my home. I am graceful and lithe, spirited and swift.

But the metal teeth dragged their sharp, lethal points across my stomach as I soared. They clamped down and twisted my long, hoofed leg. I landed in the dirt in a collision of harsh agony, a kind of pain I have never known.

Yet I walked on. I have hurt myself before. I will heal. Can heal.

…it was a long time of limping that flailing before I realized that I was trapped.

The metal teeth are all round me. I thought I was free, but I’m not. I’m in the jaws of the monster. The blood, the trails of blood that I’ve been finding… I realize now that they’re mine.

The pain is getting worse, not better.

People.

This is a your monstrosity, your cold and cruel invention. Your beast.

You, you humans. You begin to chase me down, but I do not want to be caught. I do not want to end, not today, not ever. Not even with this pain. I can live with pain. I want to live.

…you think we cannot understand you, but we know more than you think.

I don’t know your strange, eclectic tongue, but I know your tone. I smell your pity and your apprehension. I feel your anxiety and determination.

I know.

What if I don’t want your mercy?

You did this to me. This pain is your pain. And I am strong. I am a goddess of these woods, a creature of these trees. I will heal. Can heal.

But I can’t heal while I’m running, and eventually I collapse. I need time. I need time…

If I were a human, is this what you would do? Would you hunt me down in this claustrophobic cage and tell yourself that this is the right thing, the just thing?

Would you fancy yourself a hero as you think to play the role of God and end my suffering yourself?

What if I don’t want your mercy?

You, with the strange, long tool that will shatter the air with its sickening crack. You look right at me, with trembling hands and narrowed eyes.

You did this to me.

You aim it. You’re shaking.

What if I don’t want your mercy?

The first shot isn’t true. The birds scatter away at the sharp and violent sound, and my pain from before is nothing, nothing compared to what I feel now.

What if I don’t want your mercy?

I still don’t want it after the second, the third, the fourth. I am still breathing through a blood drenched throat after the fifth, and even then, even as these, my woods, my home… even as my beautiful world darkens around me and I know there is no hope, I still do not want to die.

Not even with this pain. I can live with pain. I want to live.

I want to live.

…and you call this mercy.

doe

 

 

Advertisements

13 thoughts on “This is Mercy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s