Last And Greatest Creation Of God.

I walked past a dog in a cage. It was old, most of its hair was gone, its skin was speckled with sores. Its eyes, rheumy and jaundiced, stared into my own. Brown into green. I knew what it wanted from me.

I walked away.

The trees along my path home towered over me whispering secrets. They think I can't hear them, but I can. I can always hear them.

A bird jumped down from the branches, a magpie. I screamed at me, it swooped me. It hated me. I screamed back. It flew away.

A cat slunk out of a hole in a fence, hissed at me, stuck up its fur, then disappeared back through its gap in the wooden planks.

As I walked across the grass of my lawn, I heard each blade screaming as it was crushed. A hundred tiny little voices crying out in pain with each step.

In my mind's eye I can feel the jaws of a great whale, a sperm whale perhaps, emerging from the depths and sinking into my delicate flesh. Big white teeth from the abyssal plains of the ocean.

God forgive me, if he feels it right to do so.