Monday, March 12, 2012


All his life, Barnaby had suffered from this horrible fear of birds. It was a kind of instinct, some uncontrollable, deep horror passed on to him from his ancestors. From some long forgotten, ancient time when birds were a threat to them. A terrible threat. To the point that the fear of them became their nature. It went into their blood to be inherited by their decendants all the way down to Barnaby.

It didn't help him that everybody confirmed him there was nothing to be afraid of. Not that he didn't know! But telling him so just made him feel even more like a weirdo. He asked himself what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t relax like the rest of the world.

What was it that made him freak out with panic at the sight of a few feathers? This was not normal. He was not normal, he began to think.

He had heard that there were more people who are afraid of birds. There was a latin word for it, it sounded very important and he forgot it on the spot. Barnaby didn’t believe it anyway, he had never met one of these people.
He had also read that there was a direct line from the dinosaurs to the birds and that it was possible that there was still an achaic fear of these primeval monsters that some people were able to feel to this day.

Barnaby was not afraid of dinosaurs. He was afraid of birds.

One day he realized that he had to make a choice. He could yield to his obscure anxiety and try to avoid anything bird-related for the rest of his life, forever a prisoner of whatever it was that haunted him. Or prove to himself that there was nothing to be afraid of.

He decided to confront his worst nightmare. This was the day when Barnaby became a hero.

barnaby was brave