Sitey
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The little boy's father loved to hunt birds. For each dead bird, the little boy plucked a single feather from it and kept all the feathers in a box under his bed. Red, blue, green, violet...the various feathers all splashed together like wildflowers in a golden field. He never collected the same feather twice and every night he would gather all of them in his hands and pray for their souls. He spent most of his time locked up in his room, praying and fasting. He believed if he prayed hard enough, the birds would come back to life. Nothing happened, though.
Day after day, prayer after prayer, and still nothing happened. His father, sick with worry and angry at his son's idleness, couldn't control himself anymore. He stormed up the stairs and kicked the door open. The boy happened to be on his knees, chanting. He grabbed the boy by his neck and lifted him into the air. He yelled at him and threw him on the floor and began to beat him, hot tears running down his face. He spotted the open box with all the feathers. He grabbed it and ran outside of the house. The boy followed. The father then made a huge fire. He threw the box into the hungry fire. He felt victorious, as though he had rescued his little son. But the boy watched as the feathers crinkled in the flames, watching the smoke form into shapes of various birds. He laughed and clapped his hands. Then he ran into the bonfire, hoping to embrace his new friends. He was deaf to the screams of his father...his life burned away...he was happy...
By : Unknown