Writing Prompt

Who? Who? Who?

Will understand a creature who sleeps when others wake?

Who? Who? Who?

Will not be afraid when they see those shadowed birds crawl across the moon?

Who? Who? Who?

Will see those glowing eyes

And that painted face and see anything

Other than a terrifying creature

With swooping wings and taloned claws?

Who Who? Who? Who?

If anyone

Will pity those nocturnal beasts?...

“Who am I? What am I?” the feathery feline asked the wise man, in tears. “The owls say I’m not an owl, the cats will not play with me either. I feel so lonely and sad.”

The wise man smiled and took his wrinkled hand to the creature’s head.

“Do not let it get to you, Minguar. Not all animals in the jungle understand those who are different but that doesn’t mean you are worthless.”

“But I have no...

Sadness filled Luna. Her entire clan was gone, wiped out, and she didn’t do anything to stop it. When she closed her eyes, she saw the bodies everywhere. Mostly of the her clan, but a few of the enemy. Luna knew who had attacked them, but she didn’t know why. The clans had been at peace for centuries. Granted, these peace was achieved by isolation.

What was Luna to do now? Fight, avenge th...

This land is old. Older than his descendants. Older than his blood. Older than his clan. Older than any war.

But it is not older than he.

He remembers finding this place: a desolate, dusty ravine hidden in the desert mountains. Desperate to escape the world, he had settled there, in a small cave.

The more time he spent there, the faster he realized that the journeys for food were becoming hazar...

Rain falling over him streaming in faucet drops

Sitting on a puddle of the soaked grass

He waits all alone

The eyes within seem to be full of precious tears

The ones that are formed from lonesome moments

A creature from a mystery he is

Bird like feathers make him charming

But brows frowning makes him unapproachable

Sitting in the puddle of soaked grass

No one comes near for he is different

But t...

Again. And again. And again.

The small lompura fell.

“All the others caught on so quickly,” he thought.

But the others were bigger

with larger, less battered wings.

He sat in the wet grass

Defeated,

Aching and sore.

Tears swelled in his eyes.

He did not want to cry-

not while he knew mother watched from the nest above.

But the rest of her young had flown off

Taking flight with ease.

He sh...