He walked out in the open, preening proudly, and swung his lustrous train of feathers up to display their bright colours and rich plumage. He turned this way and that, and heard the females oohing and aahing, devouring him with their eyes. He walked a little ahead and was gratified with the female fan following. What a variety to choose from, he chuckled to himself.
He heard an angry call and turned to see an older peacock, his feathers in full display, trying to intimidate him. All he had to do was flick his tail open and reply ferociously. What a sight, watching the other peacock admitting defeat and sulk away with his train dropping to the ground. Quite a few challenged him, only to walk off in a huff and congregated to probably bitch about him.
Who cared! Not he. He selected the best and was soon quite busy. The rejects went away disappointed, seeking their luck elsewhere.
He danced, oh how he danced, to impress his women and make them desire him more and more!
When he saw his first feather fall, he just laughed. But soon, he felt himself going bare and his heart sank more and more. He saw the same fate awaited the others, but he was different. He was a hero. How could this be happening to him? He was young. He was virile. He was the unanointed king! But here he was, suffering just as them.
When they turned to look at him, he felt derision. "You are no better than us," those eyes seemed to say.
His peahens were always with the chicks, not caring about his shedding plumage, not caring about his misery.
He felt despair. He felt his greatness slip into nothingness. He hid behind trees, he shirked company. He heard the others laugh and cheer. They were all laughing at him, he thought. When a peahen ran after her naughty chicks, he thought she were running away from him.
"Hey, you, come... Why are you hiding?" one older peacock called him and the others grinned. He felt they were jeering at him. He flew atop a tree, away from where they could see him. They joined him there, "Is there some problem? Are you mourning the loss of your train? It will come back," the older peacock told him. "I was also scared..." the old one was saying but he could stand it no longer. 'What would that oldie know? He could never have been as good even back then!' the young one thought. He flew back to the ground, unable to bear their torture and advise and jeering. Even their cheerfulness bothered him. So much positivity! He felt it like a burden.
He heard them calling out to him, but he refused to look up. He started walking away, and that seemed to amuse them more for they shouted harder.
He felt sharp claws and a leopard sank its teeth on his neck. He twisted and his eyes flew up. Oh, had he just paid attention. He saw the others cover their faces in agony, unable to bear his suffering. A couple flew down to attack the leopard. But alas, the leopard dragged him away.
The peacock's last thought was, "If only I hadn't been so proud."
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