ORIGINS: Birds fly away and mice run into hiding. There is no better picture of cowardice. And we owe it to the eyes of the sixth character in the original series. Thank you.
By the way, as usual, the props are built from the eyes of each character.
Here’s the thing. The world doesn’t go round if there are too many cowards like me in it. Someone has to stay behind. But I would never ask you to fight, pretty bird. You can still be a symbol of hope. I will gnaw at your wings; I will burrow into your heart. I will hide, and there will be no flight for you, but everybody will still praise you. Because, just like lights in the dark, birds like you will always be a cliché. Comfort and familiarity, that’s what most people resort to. And I promise you that they won’t even notice that your wings are gone. They will close their eyes and see you flying towards the horizon. You will still get to fly, pretty bird. People’s hearts may not be the sky, but I promise you that they aren’t so bad.
I have lost count of how many times I have been called a coward. I don’t remember when my name became synonymous with mouse. Like everything else, cowardice can be ranked too, but I am still trying to understand what makes mice king. I have seen birds fly away, without looking back, at the first hint of cold in the air. I have seen those same birds darken the sky, flying as one, by the thousands. A dozen mice. Me. We all have the same instinct ruling our hearts. But birds are never deemed cowards. Hope. Freedom. Those are the synonyms they have been given. But no matter how I look at it, it doesn’t add up. I have seen birds bury the sun. I have felt chills all over my skin, not just running down my spine. Fear spreading from their wings into my heart. But mice have never gnawed at me, unless I stood blocking their path. They have always kept their fear to themselves. And I don’t understand why the crown isn’t on those birds’ heads.
A home is warmth on a cold winter day. A place where you hide from the cats of the world. Mice huddled close together, that’s how I would describe love. But if I could choose where to gnaw a hole, I would never waste my teeth on a paper-thin wall. I have heard enough raised voices to last me a lifetime. All I want is to be done with the echoes. To flee somewhere they can’t reach my heart. So, I would settle for gnawing my hole in the wing of a bird. Because I don’t have the right teeth to gnaw a hole in space. But birds can leave winter behind. They can fly high. And I suppose that’s the closest thing to silence a mouse like me can hope for.
I still remember the lullaby you used to sing to me. It starred a little mouse that had its nest in a black bird’s wing. The bird couldn’t stand the cold. It took a deep breath and set off, breaching the sky, to be closer to the sun. Crumbs fell from the mouth of the little mouse, and you sang. That cowards dream, but brave children stay and live their lives. You wanted me to see only starless nights when I closed my eyes. You feared that I would never get used to the cold otherwise. But I could only hold my breath for so long. And without light on the other side, I drowned. Right where you left me. Because I couldn’t find my way to the surface I had to breach.
Mouse: You can cover your ears, but that will just trap my words inside you. And they will gnaw. Coward. Coward. Coward. A thousand holes in you.
Bird: Spread your arms. You know, as well as I do, that you want to fly away.
Mouse: You can cut it off, but your cowardice will only grow stronger the next time around. Hahaha. When will you learn that you can’t run from your instincts?
Bird: You can try to contain your cowardice. But, at the end of the day, I will just fly away, taking a part of your soul with me.
Mouse: Welcome to this nest of cowards. I will huddle close to you and keep you warm from now on. Don’t be ashamed. Don’t feel guilty. Everybody prefers warmth, and you should just enjoy it with the rest of us.
Bird: What are you afraid of? I am offering you a chance to escape. I am welcoming you into my heart. Burrow into my wing already and stop wasting my time. Don’t lie to yourself. Even if you stayed, you would just keep looking away. So, just hide, and don’t look back.
Mouse: Coward. Every word you are too scared to say, I use them to build my nest. Thank you for making me feel at home in your heart.
Bird: Coward. Every word you leave unsaid only adds another feather to my wings. Souls aren’t loyal dogs. We are birds. And we are only waiting for an excuse to fly away.
I am a pair of bird wings. Selfishness personified. There is nothing in the sky. It’s called hope. Flying away is easier than staying and living on the ground. Among the crumbs that keep falling from the mouths of all those mice. There is nothing fear hasn’t already touched. And I beat louder than the heart of my bird. Start from scratch. Start from scratch. Start from scratch. That’s my refrain. The spell I keep casting on this bird. Mice flee. Paving the way. If you have been told that birds eat those crumbs, it’s a lie. Birds fly. They don’t stay. They don’t protect. Birds just hope for the best. Without trying to repair or rebuild what they leave behind.
Poor little mice. You have been maligned, have you not? Don’t worry, you are safe now. I have nothing but love and praise for you. I can only fly so high. But desperation gave you sharp teeth. You can gnaw holes in the ground, and you will give me the moon. I won’t have to lie to myself. From now on, you will do it for me. I will fly in outer space. Finally. I won’t have to waste any more birdsongs trying to dream all this fear and disappointment away. Go on, my little mice, gnaw away. And then hide, with me, in that perfect lie.
Did you know that birds don’t need wind to fly? That means that there are no debts, and I can take whomever I like under my wing. Birds and mice, we may not be scared of the same things, but we will always choose to take the easy way out. And now I know how to assuage my guilt. I thought that if I took wing, the wind would do it for me, and sooner or later all the guilt would wear off my feathers. But it remains just as colorful as the first time, if not more so. That is why I am offering you an even easier way out. You won’t have to use your teeth. We will fly away. We will leave everything and everyone behind. But there won’t be anything in our wake. I will keep you from adding blood to the horrors and the cold, and maybe then this guilt won’t follow me anymore.
When I was young, my only chore was picking berries in the woods. Black and red. The colors of endless possibilities and zest for life. They kept me sheltered in the heart of the woods, and every day they were the ones that opened their mouths wide like baby birds. I had to feed them my dreams, my laughter and my smiles. They used me to forget and escape. I was their only hope, their last pair of wings. Flying beyond the horizon, to the ends of the world, had done them no good. Everywhere they had flown, it was just more of the same. They needed someone that hadn’t been touched by real life. But mice can squeeze through the smallest cracks. And it wasn’t long before my teeth began to ache, with the need to bite.