I thought I hated all mortals.

In my mind they were foolish creatures, weak and insufferable, ugly and greedy, pathetic and argumentative. They were the race bearing a lack of compliance or acceptance for another's differences. Seeing the perspective or point of view of a person standing right next to them was a feat that didn't come naturally and a skill far too few achieved. They were quick to wage war, but quicker to beg for their meaningless lives.

Such a being was too easy to kill, off a whim.

I stopped trying to understand mortals long ago, so on a particular fateful day, I didn't question why an infant mortal was left alone in a dessert, unmonitored and defenseless.

Its wailings were faint. Had I not been a superior race, I would have flown past it without realizing. Instead, off a whim, I descended towards it.

I remember the wailing stopped once my claw reached the sand. I had never seen one that small before. My wings curled around the creature - call it predatorial instinct. The sunlight cast a faint red shadow through the thin of my wings and against their curious little eyes. Its sun-tanned hand stretched away from its strangled blanket and out for me; an empty threat, one I chose to ignore.

I stooped down to its level and the first thing it decided to do was reach for my hair, pulling the red strands in tiny bunches - as I said before, 'quick to wage war'. I grabbed it by the wrist and raised it up high for a better display. It fainted. On another whim I decided to bring it back with me.

I thought once it reached my den I'd want it dead, but it intrigued me with its strange behaviour, making bubbly scream-noises anytime it saw something new. I fed it and decided to keep it around. It wasn't like the other mortals I hated so much, this one possessed a certain light.

It gave me a thought.

What if I nurtured this light? What if I grew it in a way that could improve the species from within?

So I did. I became a sort of mother, or father perhaps - I forgot what they were called.

It grew fairly quickly and I grew used to its company. So used to it, in fact, that I found myself preoccupied with needless thoughts on its safety, its wellbeing, and its joy. I grew fond of its expressions when I took it for a fly. I had to protect its bubble-scream, and its gentle, constant, expression changes. I had to give it more reasons to latch its arms around me. I had to make sure it wouldn't wail and leak through the eyes in that awful way mortals do.

I paid attention to the many, many things that could cause its demise. Since falling over could cause it to bleed, anything greater than that was a threat. I hated this. This threat-list made me do crazy things; like take the full force of an attack to shield it from harms way, or dive into a lake that naturally seeps my energy to prevent it from drowning, or beg...

beg other mortals to spare its targetted, fleeting life in exchange for the immortality of mine.

Looking like a crazy person I smiled. Wide grinned and toothy. All day I smiled because I was going to be a big sister. I was seven years old at the time and had always wanted a sibling. Praying and singing to God for a little sister to play with. Growing up was a little bit lonely at times, having to move around constantly. But I knew - I knew having a sister to play pretend with would make everything better.

Inevitably, my silly smiling had creeped out a few children in my grade. Obliviously, I continued grinning, for my wish had finally come true. I spend the day dreaming of what sisterhood would be like; April Fools pranks, trick-or-treating at Halloween, driving our mom crazy. Heck, I even gave her a early nickname - Lovebug. After school, I ran to the car excited for the hospital. We drove for seemingly hours but when we got there -

it was all worth the wait. My little sister, wrapped in a pink blanket, and bald. Happiness and pride welled in my heart as I held her, determined to be the best big sister.

However, she would be living with my mom. While I live with my grandparents. Don't get me wrong at the time I was ecstatic. But I felt a my heart drop when I thought of how "sisterhood" wouldn't be. I was angry and heartbroken. I still am. The universes' cruel joke was to give me a sister whom I can't have. Carrying on bitterly I found myself unhappy, depressed even. Until I began accepting that I would miss growing up with her. I would miss growing up with my little brother. Although we visited occasionally, visits were tainted with anger and grief. Lovebug mourned the loss of an older sister while I grieved the loss of a little sister and brother. How could I not be melancholic when I barely know my sister whom I wanted all this time? Never truely connecting I distanced myself. My heart got lost in the sea of solitude. Paddling back to the shores deemed impossible with the ongoing family feud. Hope was still in the horizon.

I might miss a childhood but I will have my siblings in adulthood. Where we can share all of our silly stories and fun memories; and our sorrows and dreams. Waiting for the day is painful but worthwhile. When we three are independent we can rebuild the broken pieces of our familial and sibling bonds.

#nonfiction

#story