Eleutheromania (noun): a great desire of freedom

Their eyes met in the sunset.

A pale yellow bird perched in a cage, and the little green bird standing outside on the balcony railings.

Behind the metal bars, its yellow counterpart was looking at it with empty eyes. Although there were many intricate toys, clear water, and several delicious millet treats, the yellow bird’s feathers were crumpled in a state of distress.

It stared outside with a hunger that couldn’t be fulfilled with material luxuries.

Risking a greeting, the green bird decided to chirp.

It nearly fell off its perch when the yellow bird chirped back. The tweet was forlorn and raspy, as if the bird was crying.

The little green bird turned to stone. There was a door on the cage, one that it knew how to open.

But was it the right decision to free the yellow bird?

The little green bird reflected on its own. Didn’t it take on a role of narrating stories a while ago? It was now bound by fate to witness the tales of other creatures and share them with the world. What would happen if a narrator of stories stepped out of line and interfered with the characters?

The green storyteller in question knew it was no normal bird. And naturally, the consequences of breaking the rules of destiny wouldn’t be normal, either.

Fearing numbing its thoughts, the little green bird fluttered away.

A gnawing regret clawed at its heart as it sailed across the now-dark sky.