The Little Bird and the Dying Man

"I'll fix you. I'll fix you," the little bird chirped. The man beside him was covered in wound and blood. He was dying. The little bird flew here and there on the man's shoulder, chest, head back to the shoulder again and to the legs.

The man was oblivious of what was happening around him. But the chirping of the little bird fluttering here and there were trying to wake him. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. But the little bird kept on. She doesn't want him to die.

He looked straight up to the passing clouds and on to the little bird. What was this little bird doing here? Who was he to this little creature? What was this bird doing flying and playing around him? Was this a little act of kindness the world is showing him on his deathbed? He did no good his entire life and yet the memory that will most likely remain in his was this little bird cheering him

She doesn't want him to do.

"Stay awake," the little bird continued to chirped. "Be calm. Everything will be fine. Don't worry. I'm with you. I'll fix you. I'll fix you. So please, stay with me."

He doesn't understand what the bird was saying. The man smiled on the little bird. It was his first time doing that for so long. He couldn't remember when was his last. Or what was about he smiled as sincere as that but on his final moment he was happy.

"Here I am dying. A man hated by the world. And yet the it is showing me something out of the ordinary. A little bird singing me a melody," the man said. He coughed and blood gushed out his mouth. He was dying. "I wish I could understand this song you're singing little bird."

The little bird doesn't understand him.

"You'll be alright, right?" the little bird chirped. "Stay calm. Reserve you're energy. Or please continue to speak. Speak with me. I couldn't understand you but please tell me more. Tell me a story. I want to hear more. Please. Just please stay with me."

The man tried to get up but his legs could no longer support him. His hand as well does not want to listen. He was tired. Memories then came flashing to the man.

He wanted to be a poet. One who would make the world listen in every word he say. He doesn't like complicated words. Just the simple ones. More people would definitely enjoy hearing his poems if they were too easy to understand. But of course he likes it to be deep and broad at the same time. He wanted meaning but something his reader would find on their own.

But of course that was just his dream. He couldn't be one.

He met his wife on a travel overseas. She was as beautiful as the forest and the sky combined. She was lovely. She understood him well. Though they had their few shortcoming, she was there for him. No matter what. They had a daughter and the three of them lived a happy ever after.

But of course it was just a memory. Tragedy suddenly came and his wife and child was taken away from him. An accident occurred and only himself was saved. He couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't aware of what had just happened. Things just happened all too quickly. And after that, he was alone.

His dreams of poetry and his memories of his family, things to him  far from reach. He lived a tragic life.

But of course he was kind. People loved him for that. And so he was never lonely. But there were some things missing which not cannot be replaced. Though surrounded by love, the man was alone. Until his last moment.

Suddenly tears came overflowing from his eyes. His vision got blurred as his sight got soaked. He was dying. He was crying.

"Don't I look pathetic, little bird?" the man said. "Earlier I fooled everyone with my empty bravado trying to save some of my friends. Look at me, here a grown up covered with wounds crying. Tell me, little bird, was I the one who's fooled?"

The little bird fluttered on his shoulder and kissed her beak on his neck.

"You're voice is beautiful," the little bird chirped.

"I lived a tragic life and here I am ending it looking as pathetic as ever. All my dreams are gone. My memories are so distant and sorrowful. I wish I could go back in time and just.. I wish I never been.. I hate my life," said the man.

"You're singing, right? You're telling me a poem, right?" the little bird chirped.

The man suddenly stopped speaking. His wound felt less painful. He felt less and less. The hue in his eyes have changed. He can no longer see anything else. Except for the little bird by his side.

"Tell me, little bird, why are here?" the man asked. "What good have I done to deserve your song?"

With every ounce of his strength left lifted his finger. He did not know why but just this. The little bird flew on it. It sounded more happily.

"You're going to be fine now, right?" the little bird chirped. "Right? I'm going to go and find somebody to help. Alright? I'll fix everything. Don't worry. You're going to be alright. If I can't find anybody, I'll fix you myself, alright? I'll fix you, so don't worry."

"Please tell my wife and daughter, I'm coming home," the man said.

The little bird flew away. The man looked up to the direction of it's flight. It was going to heaven. His message will get to them, was his final thoughts. He smiled as his body collapsed.

As for the little bird, she flew carrying hope.