Obsession by Vandamir Windrider

Obsession
By: Vandamir Windrider

They are obsessed with death and violence. How or why is a mystery; all that is known is that their conversations constantly revolve around these things.

Last autumn, when Nature's frosty stare maimed the mornings, they talked about the man who was killed and eaten by a polar bear in a small Alaskan village. They weren't very interested in the incident itself. They knew that the bear had killed the man out of hunger. The only thing they really discussed was the man's bloody death. He had gone up against one of the world's largest and most vicious predators empty handed in order to save the life of his wife and unborn child. They admired the man's sacrifice, though ultimately they were glad the bear hadn't been slaughtered for her instinctual kill; she may have had cubs to feed. It's almost as if they care for animal life more than human. But they never discuss that, only death.

And when Nature threw dark, cold tantrums that descended with fury on this land, they discussed the black albino who went crazy, shot his mother and sister, and held his brother at gun point until his life was ended by a well-placed sniper's bullet. They talked it over for hours even though they didn't know anyone involved. Maybe the discussion lasted so long because it involved the mysterious darkness and pain that is concealed in the human mind; but, maybe not.

Then as Nature warmed the awaiting world with her fragrant breath, they examined the violent murder on a college campus. A girl had been found--cut, slashed, and raped--in a dorm bathroom. The police had no clues except the skin samples found under her fingernails. And those were useless unless there was a list of suspects. They talked about the murderer. Was he a student? Would he ever be caught once school let out for the summer? They discussed the effects the murder would have on the college. Would it lower the enrollment for the next year? Would the college beef up security? And if so, how? Security already carried guns, what more could the state do to make the college safe? They didn't know anything, they just speculated.

Even as Nature shed joyous tears of life on the water-starved landscape, they discussed the bloated, decaying body that had been found behind the local high school. How had he died? Did he have a fatal fall? Or did he fall into the water and drown? Or maybe he fell and died from hypothermia? It was a mystery. The authorities didn't even know--the body was in too bad of shape; only a few scrapes of clothing and a pale, featureless corpus were left. So featureless, in fact, that the man who first found it thought it was a skinned animal someone had shot out of season. They discussed it anyway. They remembered all the missing-person posters plastered around town two months before and how, even then, they figured he had died somewhere, though they knew nothing of the man except he had disappeared.

And today, although Nature's passion again heats the known world, there they are; their wicked beaks clattering incessantly and their bright eyes glinting with a warped hunger as they noisily contemplate another grisly, blood-soaked body and pay no attention to the brilliant smile that beams down upon their glossy blue-black feathers or the fragrant sounds and sparkling smells of the thriving world around them. They're too obsessed with scavenging through the refuse of human nature to see the beauty beyond it.