Platero And I – Louisette
The girl next door—I keep forgetting her name—just came by, Platero. She’d found an injured woodcock.
The bird was in bad shape, covered in blood, breathing weakly and blinking irregularly.
“She’s going to be fine, isn’t she, mister (she keeps forgetting my name)”, she asked.
Despite her tender age, she may have suspected that the animal endured excruciating pain and that release from suffering proved to be the only possible act of mercy.
“I gave her a nice name. Louisette.”
I’m glad you didn’t witness it, dear Platero, even though now you’re sniffing the fluttered and sticky feathers.
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
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