Submission (#71) Approved

This is a written submission!!


It was a sunny day that morning. The weather forecast was bright and warm, not a single cloud to be found in the great blue expanse of the sky. Icarus had alighted softly in the grass moments ago, careful to ensure that no one would see him. The terralien was an odd fellow, a creature of light and true isolation. He was the sort that would never come out of his hiding place unless no one else was around and the world was lit by the sun’s glorious light.

Where were those hiding places?

None knew. None but Icarus.

As always, he had come out with no particular purpose in mind. He was a wanderer by nature, and today his nature brought him to a field of beautiful white flowers and dandelions. Seeds flitted by him in the breeze and even clung to his fur, but he wouldn’t notice. He rarely noticed much beyond his beloved pet, who was safely tucked away in his visor, anyways.

Curiously, he bent over and gently plucked a single flower out of the soft soil. He examined it, slowly turning it over in his paws. He could feel the fuzz on the stem, the velvety soft white petals; the fragility of such a small life.

Icarus couldn’t help but wonder, were terraliens truly the end all be all, so significant and important compared to the little flower? After all, most terraliens kept some sort of creature or thing as little pets. That was how he interpreted such a thing, at least. Capturing such a little insignificant life and putting it behind glass, supposedly for its own safety, maybe even its happiness? It all seemed a little… Well. Perhaps terraliens had some sort of complex.

But then he had to consider that he had also seen quite different. While cradled safely in the darkness of his various dens, he would spy on other terraliens, many of which who cooed at their beasts as they fed them. He had seen some water their plants and purr at them so tenderly. Just the day before he saw two terraliens who kept bettas excitedly prance about together to share their enthusiasm for the little things.

Then there were the edible and synthetic terraliens, who often seemed to disregard that sort of tender care.

Where did Icarus lie on that spectrum?

That question popped into his mind just before he realized that he had been on autopilot, picking flowers randomly and ripping the little plants from the ground, severing their roots and destroying them forever. He wasn’t sure why he did it. He just did. The plants, defenseless, now lie withering in his paws or at his feet. For a long time he pondered what he had just done. What if plant terraliens had just seen him doing that? Would they be horrified, nothing but terror and hatred welling in their hearts as he ravaged their little friends for no reason? Or would they join in, collecting more “pets” to stuff into their visors?

Was tearing apart their petals the same as tearing the feathers from his fragile owl’s back? At that moment, his pet cooed softly, stirring from her slumber. The squeak made her seem softer and more defenseless in the moment.

He hated anyone who ever dared to pull even just one feather from her tiny head. They wouldn’t exist anymore, if Icarus could help it. So then, what was he now, to all the terraliens who kept these flowers safe and warm within the comfort of their visors? A monster, or a master? Suddenly overcome by a bout of dread and anger at what these thoughts imply, Icarus suddenly took flight, speeding away into the endless ocean of sky.

After that day, he never picked flowers again.