As I thwated the ladybird aside, it never occurred to me that I just cost a beautiful creature its life. My motive in no way was to **** it, rather my irritation got the better of me and a thing more beautiful than I lay lifeless on the floor. For a moment I hoped it would get up and crawl up the marble staircase, alas my conscience had to accept the fate the ladybug got was on me and not nature. It was my need to feel powerful, being a superior organism with intellect none but my species acquired. What different does it make me from the ruthless murderers or serial killers. I murdered a creature of the nature whereas they just **** their own species. They do it for the power or maybe the lust for blood and I perhaps did it in vain.

I leaned next to the upside down ladybird whose beautiful red polka dotted body was obscured by the ground. I whispered a quite "I'm sorry". I don't think she heard me but at least I felt the remorse I should have.