Saturday, September 20, 2008
The Year 2012
Jasfoup crouched down on his haunches and pointed to the broken egg shell. “This has been pushed from the nest up there,” he said. “Probably by a cuckoo. This was meant to be a sparrow, but now its parents will work twice as hard raising a cuckoo baby instead.”
“It doesn’t seem fair,” said the little girl next to him. “Why couldn’t the sparrow baby have a chance to live, too?”
“God’s fickle laws,” said the demon. “He will, apparently, have watched it fall.”
The three year old bent to the dried, long-dead foetus and touched it. “I think it should live,” she said.
The raw red featherless sparrow struggled upright and made a rasping cheep. Jasfoup sighed and picked Harold’s young daughter up. “You really should control that power,” he said, burying her head against his chest and covering her ears. “One day you’ll get into so much trouble.”
He carried her back to the house, ensuring that she didn’t notice the first step he took, the one that crushed the undead.