It's been years since anyone inhabited this area, and it will be years until anyone inhabits it again.

Least that's what they thought.

Truth is, it's perfect. The hills roll, the cliff's edge giving you a perfect view of this perfect land. The flowers bloom, their scent filling the air. Trees tower, log lay, and leaves rustle in the wind. Blue water fills ponds and lakes. Creatures thought extinct roam freely, apex predators bring down their prey with a crushing blow to the windpipe. The violence of the kills results in plenty of blood, life-giving, oxygen-giving blood. The red color stains my wings until I appear to be someone of danger. The thought of it's funny. I'm just feeding off of a carcass, as I cannot bring myself to kill my own prey. I am sickening to myself.

I wish my fellow creatures dead because I cannot kill them. I eat what the predators leave behind, despite the thought of murdering-no, preying upon and killing my fellow creatures makes me sick. Yet I freely feast on the results.

As I continue on, crimson wings flapping in the air, legs free from my weight, no longer a slave to gravity, something happens. An arrow shoots through my wing, and I crash down to the earth, landing on a cliff edge. I lay dazed for no longer than a moment before rising to face whatever danger there is.

Shouts of, "Pathetic!", "You deserve to starve!", and "You son of a beast," surround me as I stand. My vision blurs before clearing, and I see...

My family.

Horrified, I decided that flight was the best option. However, when I tried to touch the sky, my wing screamed out at me. They laughed as they watched me.

And so I jumped off of the cliff, never to be seen again.

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I don't know why I wrote this.