The sky was clear, bright with the sun shining high in the mid-morning day-- a vast unending sea of blues with but a stray splotch of white from time to time. A sky that'd be beautiful, tranquil, if not for a morbid scene displayed upon and below a wooden pillar driven deep into the ground-- a ghastly scene, left for the world to see.
From seemingly nowhere, there was quite suddenly a lone ashen pigeon [dove?] perched upon an arm of the towering cross. It was, at first, sitting in an odd unnerving silence, watching the body so mercilessly attached to the cross upon which it sat-- the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the open field was the steady, wet, dripping of blood as it hit the hard ground below.
"Cooo..."
"Coo-ooo-hooo..."
Minutes pass before the somber bird slowly makes it's way closer to the seemingly lifeless body hanging by rusty, crude, spikes. It's head hung low-- it's tiny beak damn near dragging against the wood as it awkwardly shuffled- as if showing it's guilt, or perhaps just sorrow.
"Cooo-hooo." It's head cocked to the side, raising just slightly-- shuffling ever so closer to the man until it was perched but a mere inch from the poor man's face. Silence, again, fell upon the gruesome scene and upon the otherwise scenic surroundings.
Silent, aside from the dripping-- the slow, steady, dripping that threatened to turn the bird from ash to crimson if it didn't move.
The bird, didn't so much as budge nor ruffle a feather.
Instead it sat there fixated, with it's tiny head cocked back, on the man's lifeless face-- seeming to study him with a profound intellect, most would say such a lowly bird was incapable of having, hidden behind those dull black eyes. It sat, fixated, for countless long minutes while the steady drip, drip, drip of blood stained a hole on it's white chest.
The bird either didn't notice, or didn't care.
"Cooo.." It broke the silence, finally, with that last farewell-- it's neck snapping with a loud echoing crack, before the bird plunged towards the ground at an unearthly speed. Faster, and faster, until the tiny bird quite literally engulfed in flames-- colliding into the hard earth with an eruption of ash and the smell of... sulfur.
It was the poor pigeon's last farewell to a soul it held dear, before it's previous life came to an end so that his new one could begin. His only regret, was that it had to come to this in the beginning.
.
Custom Angelic Montre
Andrea
