Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
I never wanted to be God, to have the power of life and death in my hands, I just wanted to be normal.
I remember when I was a child, no more than seven or eight I would guess when I came across a mother bird trying to teach it’s children how to fly. Each chick was gently but firmly pushed out of the nest, but when it came to the last chick there was some reluctance on the part of both the chick and the mother as if they sensed something wasn’t going to go right. But, with a gentle nudge the chick left the safety of the nest and plummeted to the ground.
A soft thump was all I heard in the still, clear morning, but even at that age I knew something wasn’t right. I ran to the little chick and held it in my pudgy little hands. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t breathing. It was dead. I burst into tears at that, knowing that the bird was gone and would never learn how to fly. And as the tears fell they hit the bird, first one wing, then the other and then the beak. And one tear, one small, lonely tear ran down the beak and into the mouth of the dead chick.
No, not a dead chick, but a living, struggling chick. Somehow my tears had brought the chick back to life. My tears. My pain. My sorrow. They brought the chick back.
I’ve never told this story to anyone so you’re the first to know. But if you are reading this then you are in trouble, serious trouble, for you are just like me.
Post a link to the story in the comments.