The bad men who took my masters home are picking at it like a young vulture at a carcass, highly interested but no real idea where the good meat is. They cannot see or hear me; I am but a phantasm floating in the dark sky. I can see them, I can see the small man looking though my master’s things and finding many green colored papers.
Before he can stuff the first fist full in his front pocket I dive and sink my talons into his face. He does not have time to scream, no, not while my beak eviscerates his throat. Sadly he is too heavy to lift so I must have my snack with haste; the others undoubtable have heard him fall.
I am back in the air when the other bad men find him; oh how they brandish their weapons in hopes of warding off the evil spirit that is no longer there. I must watch them for my master, I must protect for my master. I will kill for my master if he sees fit.
-Penn
Thought of a Thinker 