He impeded the will of nature through his misguided humanity.
–– Sitruc Salam
Gerard Oiseau had walked the Boulevard St. Michel at dawn for most of the decade he resided in Paris’s Latin Quarter. The tranquility of the usually bustling thoroughfare at that early hour never failed to intrigue him. The empty boutiques, salons, and bibliotheques appeared abandoned and ghostly and that held an odd appeal for him. In a short time chaos will again break loose with noisy traffic and hurried shoppers, thought Gerard, crossing the Rue Racine on his way to Luxembourg Gardens.
Within a block of his destination, however, he witnessed something that shocked him. A dark figure was savagely pouncing on a body it had pinned to the sidewalk. Gerard instantly ran to the victim’s aid shouting along the way. As he neared, the attacker sprang away. The casualty lay in a puddle of blood that poured from its crushed skull. Gerard stooped for a closer look and concluded that the victim was nearly dead. As he felt the breast of the unfortunate target for a heartbeat, he was momentarily shaken by a flutter of the injured party’s limbs.
It was then that Gerard noticed that the assailant was still close. He rose and moved threateningly toward the aggressor, his right fist held high.
“Get away, or I will do the same to you!” shouted Gerard, pointing to the twitching body on the sidewalk.
He only had to move a step to cause the would-be killer to flee. However, just as quickly as the predator took flight, he returned to hover on the opposite side of the street. At a safe enough distance to assure his escape, he taunted Gerard with a shrill squeal.
“Silence!!” bellowed Gerard, as he continued to feel for a pulse in the assault victim only to discover the worst. “You bastard! You have committed murder!”
Gerard clutched the body in his hands and was startled when it began to quake violently.
“Mon dieu!” mumbled Gerard. “You are still alive, little one?”
But knowing it could not survive its injuries, he then raised it in the air and with great force heaved it to the ground.
“There, you are now with your maker, poor pigeon,” said Gerard, carefully depositing it in a nearby waste barrel.
Gerard stared mournfully into the dark recesses of the container.
“You will fly again in heaven, my dear feathered friend,” he whispered, his meditation abruptly shattered by the piercing squawk of the pigeon’s slayer.
Now it was roosting on a tree limb directly above Gerard.
“Meurtrier, your time will come,” muttered Gerard, slowly walking away from the scene that so distressed him.
When he reached the corner, he looked back to find the crow diving into the trash receptacle to retrieve its kill.
A sudden rage filled Gerard.
“Your time has come now,” he growled, dashing back to the barrel.
At the moment he arrived, the crow attempted to fly from the barrel, but Gerard had managed to capture it and snap its neck.
A sharp cry broke his concentration. An elderly woman looked on in horror.
“C’est vraiment terrible! Why would you kill a helpless bird?