Got milk, or a lesson in tolerance

You can’t read their faces. Or eyes. They are fast and deadly, that much I knew. They are agile. And agressive. Or tender. Even, sort of, caring sometimes. You never know. When they are angry they kill, and the horror of taking a life seems to be unknown to them. They think everything they don’t know or understand is a threat.

It was that life-turning point when I though, NO.  I don’t want to live a life of reflex action. There’s always at least a split second to reflect, not reflex. I may not understand them, but this is my fault, not theirs. There’s a place for all species. That much I knew.

We don’t have to fight other species simply because we are afraid of the unknown.

I won’t RUN from the boy. And I won’t RAM him.

“Peace, brother!”

P.S. Later that day, Pete was telling his friends that the Mooo he heard was somehow… peaceful, and that was why he hadn’t run.

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That post was written in response to the weekly writing challenge on the Daily Post.