Morning all. I hoped everyone slept well and is ready to face the day. My sleep was a bit intermittent, like a gray cloud that isn’t really sure if it wants to commit to raining yet. And for some reason every dream I had, or snippet of dream, had a small green bunny rabbit in it. Not featured, just somewhere in the scene, like a strange Where’s Waldo. Very peculiar. But now is the time we shift focus into the morning’s prompt. Are you ready? Good, lets go.
Not one of my favorites, but it could be an interesting addition to a story. The scientist has the feel of a secondary character.
Thursday, September 16th: His face was filled with such joy.
His face was filled with such joy. It was his greatest triumph. He watched his creation take flight. So many people had been against him, they said it couldn’t be done. Here in the wilds of his personal preserve, he proved them wrong. He stood watching, observing from a distance. He felt something hit his hand and he looked down.
He looked to the sky. It was blue and cloudless.
He lifted a hand to his face and found it wet. Tears then. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Hadn’t believed himself capable of it anymore. He suspected tears were something one grew out of. He let his hand fall and turned his attention back to the scene before him.
So many species had been destroyed. So few remained. The art of returning formerly thought extinct species was fraught with darkness. In the beginning the only people willing to fund his work were hunters with too much money, too much time and too much pride to be told there were things they couldn’t shoot.
They made sport of defying international laws and going on hunts for species on the protected list. But after a while even that thrill palled. He gave them another option. Hunting creatures already thought extinct. Testing their prowess against that of their forbearers.
And he gave them good sport. The hunts he provided were legendary, in certain circles. And they paid. Paid well. He hated the necessity, but he needed the funds and if he was honest, the practice. He lived as cheaply as he could. Put the money needed back into his work and banked the rest religiously.
Finally he was able to buy this space, this preserve. Here he could work in earnest. Here he wasn’t bringing creatures back from extinction for the sport of the jaded rich. No, here was his true work. Bringing back formerly extinct species that were needed to maintain the biodiversity that the planet needed.
It was true, he occasionally needed to take the odd safari based job. But that work he never brought here. And even that had its usage. Over time he managed to create extras of the creatures he created for sport. Some would be taken to the hunting preserve his clients used. Others would be smuggled here, to this place. Where they could be kept, bred and allowed to roam. One of his herds was getting large enough now that he thought he might contact a zoo specializing in wild habitats. It was built like a safari without the hunters. He wished he could release the herd into the wild, but it would prove to be too tempting a target for hunters. But that was something he would have to contemplate later. He knew he couldn’t make a move until each detail was set. For now there was this his greatest creation. The flock took flight and winged in mass through the bright blue sky. The sight was spectacular and he realized he was the only living human to actually witness such an event. These birds had been e extinct from these skies for more than 3oo years.