The evil within...

His beady, red, hate filled eyes gazed lingeringly at me... Drawing me into a false sense of security, he whistled for my attention. I was bewildered by his attempts of friendship, confused by the innocence of his calls. I came closer. But, as much as I tried to forget my fears in that moment of bewilderment, I remembered the pain that he had inflicted upon my father, and my mother, and all those who had come to trust him in the past.

So many times before had he called for the caresses that were often given to him, and many times rewarded with pain, and blood. Their blood, pouring forth from their limbs as they flailed and cursed his existence.

I would not be so foolish. I would be wiser than they had been. I would admire his sleek elegance, but from afar, or from far enough that he could not maim me in a way that is befitting of his kind.

He danced, he sung, he called me on, desperately longing for the touch, the opportunity to be near enough to feel. He had no desire to feel the joy of touch, but rather the joy of imposing his lack of compassion on those forgetful enough to embrace him.

Not today. Not now. Not ever. I, unlike my trusting parents, would learn from the mistakes of others. I would stay away.

Stay away from Rocco. The scaly-breasted lorikeet.